Rage, Rage
by JJGrace42
Summary: If I die once, shame on you. If I die twice, shame on me. In between those two endings, Matilda Rogers chooses to make her home. Loose SI/OC Insert fanfic. Rated M for violence, strong themes, and language.
1. Prologue - Epilogue

**Author's Note:** The title for this fic is from _Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night_ by Dylan Thomas. This fic will reference parts from all of the MCU, not just the movies. So if you feel you'll get lost in that all or you don't want spoilers for shows you haven't watched yet (Agent Carter, Agents of SHIELD, etc.) then you might want to hold off on reading this fic.

I am working on Samsaric, I promise. But I'm a HUGE Marvel nerd and I'm super excited to finally have a Marvel fic that I'm actually really excited to write and share. It'll be a bit slow going, probably. I'm doing an ungodly amount of research for this fic and, like most of my writing, it's a slow burn and slow read.

DISCLAIMER: This story will contain depression, death, gore, etc. Continue at your own risk and be aware that this fic may or may not contain triggers. Please remember to read responsibly!

I give you the first installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Prologue - Epilogue

Once upon a time, a little girl was born. Her parents loved her and named her Angélica because they saw her as an angel; she was some sort of holy blessing they'd been given. But miracles can only last so long.

Once upon a time, a little girl grew up forsaken. Her parents loved her but they couldn't stay forever. She learned that heavenly gifts were temporary and if you wanted something you had to sweat and claw and bleed. Undeserved bliss is more trap than gift.

Once upon a time, a little girl died alone. Angélica disappeared and no one remembered her as an angel; they remembered her painfully mortal with dirt under her fingernails and exhaustion on her soul.

Once a time, a little girl was born.


	2. Chapter 1 - Of Toast and Tall Tales

**Author's Note:** As you'll probably notice pretty quickly, I don't think all the chapters for this fic will be the same length. Some will be shorter, some will be longer. Just a warning about that. Today's chapter, and the first few chapters, are going to be a bit more staccato and shorter simply because they'll be covering some earlier events before the real story hits in 1925.

I give you the second installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter One - Of Toast and Tall Tales

She awoke to the sound of her brother dying. She groaned, struggling to open her eyes against the pressure of sleep. The angry coughing ground its way into her brain. Shuddering, she pulled herself up and peered into the dark room. "Steve?" she rasped. "Stevie?"

The coughing hitched for a half second before doubling in intensity. She dragged herself from the bed and curled her toes against the cold floor. She grabbed her pillow and trudged across to the other bed. "Stevie," she murmured. "Sit up. I've got you." She climbed onto the bed and knelt on the mattress beside him. "Up, up." She pulled at his shoulders and pulled him up. Then she propped up both his pillow and her pillow behind him. "There. Water?"

His coughing trailed off a little and he managed to choke out, "Please."

"Got it." She hopped down from the bed and stumbled for a moment. "Whoops," she mumbled.

"J-juno?"

"I'm okay, Stevie. Try to relax," she ordered. She reached up on her toes to reach the doorknob and shuffled backward to let it swing open. Once in the kitchen, she climbed up onto the counter so she could reach the cabinet.

"Matilda? What are you doing?"

She paused and glanced back. "Hi, Mom." Then she opened the cabinet and retrieved a glass.

"Matilda?"

"Stevie's coughing an awful lot." She set the cup on the counter and climbed down. "I'm getting him some water."

Sarah frowned and moved forward. She took the cup and started to fill it. "Do you think he's sick?"

"I don't know." Matilda took the glass. "I'll try to get him to sleep."

Sarah smiled softly and bent down. She brushed Matilda's curls out of her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're amazing."

Matilda beamed up at her. "I know," she chirped. She moved back towards the room she shared with her brother. "Goodnight again, Mom."

Sarah laughed a little. "Goodnight again, Matilda."

Matilda shuffled backward against the door to close it. Steve was still coughing and she frowned. "Here, Stevie. Drink up." She pressed the cup into his hands. She clambered up beside him. Steve started gulping down the water and some of it sloshed out onto his shirt. Matilda reached out and hurriedly took the cup. "Careful."

Steve started coughing again, this time the sound wet but less raw. "S-sorry," he gasped out.

Matilda leaned over and yanked on the lamplight. "Do you want me to read?"

He took the cup back from her and sipped at it slower this time, eying her. "Yeah."

"Okay." She leaned far over the edge of the bed, curling her fingers into the mattress to keep herself steady. After a moment of fumbling, she managed to grab hold of the book sitting on the under shelf of the nightstand. "Where were we?" she murmured, sitting back up.

"We met the scarecrow. And kept walking."

"Right." She cleared her throat and began to read. _"After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking grew so difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the yellow bricks, which were very uneven here."_

She read on as he finished his water and his coughing softened. By the time she had reached the end of the chapter, Steve was drifting off. Matilda leaned over the edge of the bed and dropped the book on the floor. "Sleepy?"

"Uh-huh," he mumbled. He coughed weakly and yawned.

"Okay." Matilda crawled under the blanket and snuggled up next to him. "Try not to cough on me too much, okay, Stevie?"

"Okay."

* * *

"Maybe I can get in contact with Oliver and get the day off," Sarah said, sighing and running a hand through her hair. "Though I was supposed to work double today. But the daycare won't take you if Steven is like this."

Matilda set down her fork, mulling over the situation as she chewed. She listened for a moment to the sound of Steve's heavy coughing in the other room. She looked up. "I can watch him."

Sarah looked up from the plate she was washing and smiled tiredly. She wiped her forehead with the back of her sudsy hand. "That's sweet. But I can't leave a four-year-old to take care of another four-year-old."

"You've shown me what to do when he's sick," Matilda pointed out, shrugging. "We won't leave the apartment. I know how to make food. We'll survive."

Sarah stared at her for a long moment. Then she sighed and set down the plate. She dried her hands off and moved over to the table. "You're amazing." She put her hands—they were still damp—on either side of her daughter's face and placed a kiss on the girl's forehead. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. Of course, Mom."

"And you'll take care of Steven?"

"Stevie's my responsibility."

"Oh, god, how did I end up with you." Sarah smiled and pressed three more kisses on Matilda's face. "Thank you." She cleared her throat and straightened, touching her hair to make sure it was all still in place. "It's a long day, so I'll be back late tonight." She gathered together her coat and bag. "If it's an emergency . . . Mrs. Greenwald is right next door. Ask one of her boys to get me from the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, Mom."

Sarah paused and smiled. Then she stepped down the hallway and opened the door. "Hey, Steven," she said softly. "You're going to stay here with Matilda, okay? I'll be back later."

All Matilda could hear in answer was a bunch of coughing. She returned to her food and watched as Sarah returned to the front door. "Bye, Mom."

"Goodbye, Matilda." Sarah stepped out and it took a few seconds for the lock to click behind her.

Matilda got to her feet, finishing off her last bite of breakfast. She reached on her toes to put the plate on the counter. Then she wiped her hands on her dress and headed down the hall. "Stevie?" she asked, pushing the door open. "How are you feeling?" She picked up his now-empty glass. "Do you think you could eat?"

He winced at the suggestion. "I dunno," he mumbled tiredly. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up, Juno."

"I'll get you a bowl, then. And some toast. Maybe you can try to eat." She strained on her tip-toes to reach and pressed her hand against his forehead. "You've got a bit of a fever."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize when you haven't done something wrong, Stevie." She left the room for the kitchen. It took a lot of climbing and dragging her step stool around to be able to gather everything, but finally she had it all together. She shuffled back to the room and rose on her toes to dump everything on the edge of the bed. "Here we are. Bowl," she said, pressing it into Steve's hands. She pulled back his covers and laid a damp cloth across his forehead. "For your fever. And breakfast." She set the plate of toast on his lap. Then Matilda climbed up with her own plate of toast and sat at the end of his bed.

"Juno?"

"Hmm?"

"Why does Mom not take me to the hospital when I get sick?" he asked, tearing his toast into pieces before eating it. "She takes you when you're sick."

She thought that question over, finishing her first slice of toast. then Matilda smiled up at him. "Because things could be bad if I don't go to the hospital. But we don't have to worry about that with you; you're way too strong to be beaten by a stupid sickness. I wish I was as strong as you are."

* * *

Sarah locked the door and set her bag down with a sigh. Then she smiled at the sight of Matilda standing on her stool at the sink, up to her elbows in soap suds as she scrubbed a plate clean. She listened for a moment to the silence in the apartment. "Is Steve asleep?"

"For about a half hour, now," Matilda agreed, rinsing off the plate and setting it aside. Then she began draining the sink. "He was coughing for a while, but stopped."

"Did he eat?" Sarah moved towards her and brushed away a soap bubble clinging to the girl's blond curls.

"Toast at breakfast, but he threw it up. He's had lots of water and broth. And he's kept down the light soup from dinner." Matilda hopped down and dragged the stool over with her foot. She climbed up again and began drying off the dishes. "Were you late?"

"No, I wasn't. Thanks to you, dear." Sarah pressed a kiss against her daughter's forehead. "How was your day?"

"Steve's feeling better."

She smiled. "That's good, but it's not what I asked. How was _your_ day?"

Matilda looked up at her and simply repeated, "Steve's feeling better. So It's been a good day."


	3. Chapter 2 - Salad Days

**Author's Note:** This chapter covers a couple years, so warning for unexplained time skips. At one point, there's an entire time skip from first grade to third.

I give you the third installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Two - Salad Days

Somewhere in the middle of her screaming, she realized that deja vu felt a lot like dying again. Memories and tears strangled themselves together in her chest and the fire burned up her throat. In the midst of it all, she forgot what it was like to breathe.

"Juno!"

Images in her head wrestled with a younger mind, dragging it down into submission. She wasn't sure when she had curled up on her side, but she choked on her next few shrieks and instead buried her fingers like claws in her hair. Something slammed loudly around her and she yelped, whimpers straining her lungs.

"Matilda? Oh, Matilda, honey. Mama's here." A hand smoothed across her back and pulled her forward. The contact dissolved her sobs into a low whine. "Mama's here, honey. Wake up. It's okay. Everything is just fine. Wake up, Juno."

"Wh-what?"

"Wake up, Juno! Wake up!"

Matilda gasped, struggling up. The person in front of her scrambled back. She pressed her hand against her chest and felt the tremors of her pounding heart. "Wh . . . . Stevie?" she rasped.

"Juno? You 'kay?"

She fell back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her vision to stop swimming and the fire to stop burning her lungs.

"Juno?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm okay, Stevie. Sorry."

He studied her for a long moment. "Do I need to get Ma?"

Matilda sat up, running a hand through her hair. She took in a shaky, wet breath and focused on the dim sunrise filtering in through the musty window. "No, no, I'm okay. It was probably about time for us to get up anyway." She moved to stand.

"Nightmare?"

She paused, glancing towards him. "Um, yeah. It's fine." Matilda hopped to her feet and went to their shared dresser to get her clothes.

Steve climbed up on her bed creaky bed and watched her go through their things. "You get them a lot. Maybe you should tell Ma."

"Don't need to. Look! You get to wear the new shoes Mom got you for school!" Matilda turned, displaying the worn hand-me-downs with a beaming smile.

Steve pouted, only to have his clothes hit him in the face when she threw them at him. He sputtered, falling back. Then he sat up and began pulling off his too-large shirt. "It's not even real school."

"Is too real school! Kindergarten counts just as much as everything else." She pulled on her dress and frowned when her thumb caught on a hole in the shirt sleeve. With a bit of struggle, she managed to get it on right. Brushing her hand over the small, ragged hole, Matilda turned to Steve. "Besides, it's just a year. Put your shoes on."

"So bossy," he complained, though he moved to do so.

Their door inched open. "Oh, good," Sarah sighed as she looked inside, her smile somehow only managing to worsen the dark circles under her eyes. "You two are awake. Breakfast is ready."

"Mu-um," Steve said, holding out his foot. "These shoes are too big!"

Sarah's demeanor slumped a bit and her smile became a bit more forced. "I'm—"

"That's okay!" Matilda said, putting her hands on her hips. "We'll just put some newspaper in 'em and they'll fit perfect. This just means you get to keep 'em longer 'cause you won't grow out of 'em so fast."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yep. Mom?"

Sarah nodded thankfully. "I'll get the newspaper. Come out for breakfast, you two."

Steve kicked off the shoes and bounced up from the bed, skipping out of their room. Matilda scooped up the shoes and followed him out to the table. "Thanks, Mom."

She set a plate in front of each of them. "I'll walk you there but you can walk home after school. Do you have the key?" Sarah dropped the newspaper next to her daughter's plate.

Matilda nodded and picked up the newspaper. "Double shift today?" She crumpled up a page and pushed it into the toe of Steve's left shoe.

"Yes. Double shift. So I'll be back late. You sure you're okay making dinner?"

"We'll be okay."

"Good, good. Now listen, Steven, Matilda. I want you two on your best behavior today. You want to make a good impression with your teacher. So no taking any wooden nickels, okay?"

"Got it, Ma!" Steve said, reaching across the table for Matilda's toast. She glanced at him and he froze. Rolling her eyes, she nodded and pushed her plate closer to him. He grinned and took the food. "You're the best, Juno!"

"I know, Stevie. I know."

* * *

"Get the fuck off my brother, you goddamn mugs!" She nailed the first seven-year-old in the back of the head with the broken fence post and it cracked angrily against his skull. With a cry, the boy tumbled forward and his hands went up to his head instead of catching his fall. He fell face first into the alleyway's rocky ground. As the other kid turned around, she drove the post into his knees and he stumbled.

"What the hell!" His hand reached for her and Matilda dropped the post just in time to nail a kick between his legs instead. He crumpled with a whimper.

Matilda stooped and picked up the fence post, eying both of the boys as they crawled to their feet. "Go on," she said. "Screw!"

Stumbling against each other, they scrambled down the alley and out onto the street. Matilda dropped the post and turned. "Really, Stevie?" she asked, helping him up and looking him over. "I was gone in the store for five minutes. Can't keep out of a fight for even that long?"

"They were pickin' on me." He winced and hissed when she pressed her thumb against the dirt-crusted gash in his forehead. "Ow."

"Oh, you're fine. C'mon. Mom can patch you up." She put her brother's boney arm across her shoulders and helped him onto the street and back towards their apartment. "Ya know, you could have at least waited until I got back to fight 'em. There's no way you thought you were gonna win that."

"Doesn't matter."

"Oh, Stevie." She sighed and helped him up the stairs, digging the key out of her pocket. Matilda unlocked the door and pushed the way inside. "We're back, Mom."

"Oh, good! Dinner should be done in a half— What happened to Steven!"

"He got in a fight."

"Alright. Sit him down at the table. I'll get my bag." Sarah wiped her hands on her apron and disappeared into her room.

"Here ya go, Stevie. Right there. Can you see straight? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Uh, none? Juno, that's not fair."

"Alright, move over, Matilda. Thank you, dear," Sarah said, setting her bag on the table. "Let's see." As she got to work, she murmured, "Do you want to tell me what happened, Steven?"

"They were just bullies, Ma. Made fun of my size. Said I was stupid." He sniffled. "Am I?"

"Oh, no, no, sweetheart." Sarah smiled sadly. "I know it hurts. And I'm sorry they said that."

"But why did they?" he gasped out, rubbing at his tear-filled eyes.

"Because they're scared of you, Steven."

"Scared?"

"Yes. Because your heart is just so large." She pressed a hand against his chest. "That's why you feel things so much. And that's why you scare them. Because you're so much _more_ than your body."

He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. "Really?"

"Really." She kissed his bandaged forehead. "Now, I'm going to finish dinner. Why don't you and Matilda go read until I'm done?"

"Okay." He let Matilda help him to his feet and then stumbled after her to their room.

Matilda let him inside first and then closed the door behind them. "Hey, Stevie?"

"Huh?"

"Step back. A little more. A little more. Right there. Okay, now bend your knees but keep 'em over your feet. Make a fist. No, no, you gotta keep your thumb on the outside or it'll break."

He followed her orders in absolute confusion. "Juno?"

"I'm gonna teach you how to throw a punch, okay? That way if they bother you again, you can nail 'em right in the nose with a good one. Got it?"

He blinked. And then he grinned. "Got it."

* * *

"Hi, Mom," Matilda said as soon as they were in the door. "Mrs. Jones sent a note for you." She moved over to where Sarah was working at the table and held out the envelope.

"Oh. Did you . . . get in trouble, Matilda?" Sarah took it with a frown.

Matilda shrugged. "I don't think so. At least, I don't think I did anything wrong." She bounced on her feet as her mother opened it. Sarah stared at the paper inside for a long time. "What does it say?" Matilda asked with a frown.

Sarah jumped, looking up. "What? Oh, no, I . . . . I just have to meet with your teacher tomorrow, okay?" Sarah got to her feet, folding up the letter.

"Um, okay." She frowned. "Did I . . . did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all." Sarah leaned down and kissed Matilda's forehead. "Why don't you go ahead and get dinner started while I get ready to leave."

Matilda frowned. "Night shift?"

"You're leaving, Ma?" Steve asked, bounding up to them. "But I thought you were gonna help me with my homework."

"I'll help you," his sister interrupted before their mother even got a chance. "'sides, that'll help me too. Now, whaddya want for dinner? Chicken and potatoes sound good?"

"We're out of chicken," Sarah sighed, brushing off her skirt. "I won't be able to get any more for a little while."

Matilda smiled up at him. "Okay. We've got some noodles left. We'll make do. Stevie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you turn the radio on while I start the food? Thank you!"

* * *

She stood just to the left of the doorway, clutching her bag to her chest and staring out at the sea of children inside the classroom. Another group shouldered roughly past her in their hurry to get inside. Matilda stumbled for a second before catching herself. Then she took a deep breath and approached the desk at the front of the room. "Excuse me? Are you Miss Campbell?"

The woman looked up. "I am. And you are?" Then she frowned. "Ah, wait, you must be young Matilda Rogers. Am I correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're the second advanced student this week. Welcome to third grade, then. Take a seat and we'll begin shortly." Miss Campbell waved out at the chairs and returned to marking up the paper in front of her.

Matilda turned to look for a seat. Second advanced student? Who was the—

At the front of the class sat a boy her age in patched clothing and a worn cap whose feet didn't even touch the ground. He was hunched over a textbook, scribbling away and completely lost in his own world as she approached.

"Hello? Is this seat taken?" she asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to him.

He looked up blankly and started chewing on his pencil. "What? Oh, yeah!"

"Oh, okay. My bad." She turned away.

"Wait! No! Sorry. It's not taken." He scratched his head. "I wasn't really listenin'. You can sit down."

"Great!" She sat down and turned to him, holding out her hand. "Matilda Rogers."

He stared at her hand for a moment before grinning and shaking it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Howard Stark."


	4. Chapter 3 - Wroth

I give you the fourth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Three - Wroth

"I can stay here if you want me to. I don't have to—"

"Go!" Steve said, pouting and crossing his arms. "I'm not a baby."

"But—"

"Matilda," Howard whined. "If we don't go now we're not gonna have enough time on our lunch break to get back."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go, then." She hopped to her feet, slinging her backpack on, and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Race you!" She took off running.

"You don't even know where we're going!" He scrambled after her. "Left!" he yelled. "Left! Goddammit, Matilda! That's the wrong way!" He veered left and Matilda whipped around to run after him. Several blocks down he took another turn and then one more before sliding to a stop. Matilda didn't stop soon enough and she slammed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Matilda grinned, sitting up with a knee digging into his stomach. "My bad!"

He grunted and shoved her off. "You're a piece of work, Rogers." He struggled to his feet and then pouted, tugging at the new tear in his pants over his bloody knees.

"C'mon," she said, looping her arm through his. "We gotta hurry to get back in time. Where is it?"

"In the garage." He tugged her in that direction. "It's not done yet, but I think I've already increased the propulsion."

"It's a combustion engine?"

"Yeah. Wanna see my blueprints?"

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

Steve jumped, looking up from his spot on the bench in the schoolyard. "Juno! It took you a long time to get out of class."

"I was talking," she said, horror making it hard to focus as she couldn't stop staring at the purple and red coloring his face. Then that horror was stripped away and replaced with anger. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

"Juno—"

"I'm gonna kill 'em. Who did this, Stevie?" She stepped forward and framed his face with her hands, shaking.

"Just some stupid kids," Steve muttered shoving her hands away. "I'm okay."

"Okay?" she asked, voice breaking. "You look half dead! What did they look like? Give me names!"

"I'm okay."

"You're clearly not!" She took a step back and pulled on her twin braids. "God, oh, god. I'm gonna kill 'em."

"Juno, I'm—"

"I swear that if you say that you're okay one more time I'm gonna lose it." She turned in a circle and then another and then another, letting the movement lull her anxiety. "Oh, god." Matilda jerked to a stop in front of him. "How do you feel? Does it hurt awfully?"

He pouted as she gripped his chin to study the bruises again. Then he looked down. "A little," he admitted.

"Stevie . . . ."

"Yeah, okay. It hurts a lot."

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

"Juno!" he gasped. "Mum says we can't say that!"

"Let's get you home." She gripped his elbow and hooked a hand on his backpack. "C'mon. Mom will know what to do. She—"

"Thought mom was workin' late."

"Shit."

"Juno!"

"Shush, I know. Is it hard for you to walk?"

"No. I'm okay." He shuffled along beside her and fell quiet as they made their way home. Finally, he whispered, "Hey, Juno?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"Are you mad at me? You seem mad at me."

"Mad at— No, no, no, no. Of course not." She stopped and turned to face him. "I just worry about you, ya know. And I should have been there."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No. No, I'm not. I just should have been there. But you don't have to worry about that anymore, okay?" She dragged him forward into her arms and kissed the purple staining his eyebrow. "You're gonna be okay."

* * *

"Juno," Steve whined. "I'm not a baby."

"I know that."

"I thought you were hanging out with Howard now."

"I was," Matilda said simply, packing up her lunch box. "But I should have been staying with you."

"But—"

"If you don't hurry up and finishing eating you're not gonna be done by the time class starts."

He huffed and bit into his sandwich. Then he muttered. "You don't have to babysit me."

"I'm not. I'm just making sure I'm here if someone tries to pick on you again. Then I can kick their asses." She fastened her bag closed. "How's your classes going?"

He just mumbled something incoherent in return. With his sandwich clenched between his teeth, he shoved everything into his bag. "Bye." He shot to his feet and stomped off, chewing on his unfinished food.

"Steve!" Matilda huffed, pouting. She gathered up her things and stalked inside. When she made it to her classroom and sat down, her friend tensed.

"How was your lunch?" he asked, pointedly not looking at her.

"Fine," she muttered, taking out her paper and starting to copy down the math problems on the board. "Just fine."

* * *

"It's nice to be able to actually walk you to school," Sarah sighed. "We should enjoy this because I'm not sure when it will happen again."

Matilda glanced up at her mother and then across her at where Steve was skipping clumsily along, swinging on Sarah's hand. "It is nice," she agreed. "How late are you working today?"

Sarah's shoulders dropped a bit. "Uh, I'll be late. And then I leave early in the morning. Are you absolutely sure you'll be okay, Matilda?"

"Of course." Matilda smiled widely to reassure her. Then she came to a stop as they reached the school. Steve took off for the front door and Matilda moved to follow. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Don't leave just yet." Sarah caught her daughter's shoulder and knelt down in front of her with a sigh. "Matilda, I know that you love your brother."

Matilda frowned. Sarah wasn't wrong, of course, but she had paused at the end of that sentence in the way people did when they were only saying something to soften the blow. "But . . . ?"

"But . . . he's his own person. I know you want to protect him. I understand. I really do. But when you try to keep someone too close you just push them away instead. And I know that you always mean well, but you come across strong. And you need to know that." Sarah smiled sadly and brushed back Matilda's bangs. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Matilda pursed her lips and then sighed. "Yeah."

Sarah smiled. "That's my girl." She kissed her daughter's forehead. "Alright, off you go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya." Matilda didn't move, watching up until the moment that Sarah disappeared around a corner down the street. Then she turned and marched into the building.

Howard looked up when she sat down next to him, but then he quickly looked away with a huff between his teeth. Matilda frowned. "What's _your_ problem?"

"You tell me. What'd I do to piss you off?" he asked, scowling at her.

"Nothing."

He scoffed and slumped across his desk dramatically, looking away from her. "Sure. As if."

She frowned and then shoved herself to her feet. Matilda pushed him roughly. "C'mon. Out with it, Stark."

"Oh, you wanna talk now?" He finally sat up and crossed his arms defensively as he faced her. "You seemed plenty set to ignore me last week."

"Last—" Matilda frowned. "I wasn't ignoring you. I was watching out for Steve."

Howard wrinkled his nose. "Why do you baby him so much?"

"I don't—" She bit down on her tongue sharply to stop her self. Then she crossed her arms. "A couple jerks beat him up when we were gone. I got paranoid." She held out a hand. "I'm sorry. Ya forgive me?"

He eyed her hand for a long moment. Then he shook it. "I do." He didn't let go. "I got some pocket money this morning for ice cream. You wanna go during lunch break?"

She hesitated.

"C'mon, Rogers. Don't chicken out on me."

She tightened her hand around his. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

She wouldn't let go of his hand the entire walk, but this time he didn't complain. "You don't have to worry anymore, Juno. Really! We're gon' be friends. Kinda like I have a bodyguard or sumthin'."

"I can stay with ya if you want. And if they show up again—"

"Naw. He took pretty good care of them. There he is!" Steve rushed forward, dragging her behind him. "Hey, Bucky! Hi!" He fumbled to a stop and would have fallen if it wasn't for Matilda's grip on him. "This is my sister, Matilda. Juno, this is Bucky Barnes!"

Matilda looked him up and down suspiciously before nodding and holding out her hand. "Thanks for takin' care of Stevie."

He adjusted his cap and offered her a roguish grin. He shook her hand solidly. "He's a punk, but he's likable. I don't mind beatin' a few asses now 'n' then to keep him around."

A smile pulled at her face. "It's nice to meet ya, Barnes."


	5. Chapter 4 - Under the Weather

**Author's Note:** I've mentioned it before and I'll mention it again 'cause I'm paranoid; the scenes will be kinda staccato for a while because it's covering a lot of time in a rather choppy manner. This one, actually, goes from when Matilda is 6 all the way to 8.

I give you the fifth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Four - Under the Weather

"Whatcha workin' on now, Stark? 'n' whose ya lady friend?"

Matilda looked up to find a taller boy standing at the edge of the garage, hands in his pockets. Howard jerked in surprise, banging his head against a pipe on the motorcycle's engine. After letting out a slew of curse words, he managed to sit up properly, rubbing his head. "Oh, hey. This is Matilda. We found an old bike shell at the dump so we've been scavenging for pieces to put it back together."

"Uh-huh. And what's a cute doll like you doin' hangin' with a punk like this?" the older boy asked, grinning at her.

"Well, I'd fix the bike myself, but unfortunately I needed another set of hands to help me carry the frame. After that, he didn't exactly want to leave," she responded easily. "And you are?"

"Ah, where're my manners. The name's Joseph. Joseph Manfredi." He jerked his thumb to the left to draw her attention. "I live at the house next door. And I go to Howard's school, just a few years older."

"Me too. The same school, not age," she clarified. "I haven't seen you around."

He shrugged, shoving his hand back in his pocket. "Ya probably will now. 'Specially if you hang around with 'im a lot, which I wouldn't suggest."

"You don't need to be rude," Howard pouted. "Wrench?"

Matilda handed it off to him. "It's fun being around him. I wouldn't be his friend otherwise."

Howard's head his the engine again and he groaned. Then he managed, "Aw, you really think we're friends, Rogers?"

"Yeah, I do, dumbo. Now are you gonna fix the engine or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm workin'."

* * *

When the last bully had dragged himself up and ran away under her glower, Matilda turned and helped Steve to his feet. "You okay, Stevie? They didn't hit you too hard?"

Steve wiped his nose and his hand came away covered in blood. "Yeah, I'm 'kay."

"I'll take 'im in to the nurse," Bucky said. "C'mon, punk. Let's go."

Matilda dusted her hands off on her skirt and then frowned down at her right shoe where her toe had broken through when she'd kicked one of the older boys. "Shit," she muttered.

"I think you broke at least one of their noses."

She whipped around. "Holy— How long have you been there?"

Joseph shrugged. "A little while. I wanted to see what happened. Ya need to work on your swing, though."

"My . . . swing."

"Right. Power's gonna come from your hip, not here," he said, tapping her on the shoulder. "Here, lemme show you."

* * *

"Scoot over," he muttered. "You're squishing me."

"Shh," she hissed. "You're gonna get us caught. Can you see?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can see." Howard squinted through the curtains. "What is he doing?"

"Shush." Matilda elbowed him harshly. "I thought you said you could see. He's gettin' chained up. Says he's gonna get out of 'em somehow."

"How the hell is he gonna do that?"

"Shush," she spat again. "I dunno. But he's famous for a reason. Now stop moving." She grabbed his ear and pulled him closer to make her point. "Just watch."

But then people had started clapping and someone moved in front of their looking spot. "Shit," Howard muttered. "I missed it."

"Dammit." Matilda wrinkled her nose then sighed. "We should go before we're caught. You first."

"Right, got it." He wriggled backward and then grunted as he hopped down from the window.

Matilda shoved backward and then dropped down. "Well, he got out somehow," she said, brushing off her skirt. "That's impressive, at least."

"Yeah," he muttered. "That'd be nice." He kicked a rock as they stepped back out on the street and watched as it clattered ahead of them.

She glanced at him. "What would be nice?"

"Being able to get out of stuff. Or around it." He shrugged. "Don't you feel like there's stuff you'd like to get around?" When she didn't answer right away, he plowed on. "Like someone put a chain on you and went 'good luck, loser?'"

Matilda laughed, though there wasn't heat in it. It was rather cold. "Yeah. All the time."

"And those obstacles? How are we supposed to get around them?"

"If I'm honest, I'm not sure we can."

Howard stopped and stepped in front of her, facing her square on. "Then let's not be honest."

She tilted her head to the side, considering that statement. "Explain," she said simply.

"It's not fair, right? It's not fair that my parents didn't eat dinner last night and it's not fair that Steve's always sick and it's not fair that the teacher thinks I'm smarter than you just cause I got balls." He shrugged. "So the world's screwed up. We're not gonna get anywhere if we play nice with it. Am I wrong?"

"No. No, you're not wrong."

* * *

The lock finally clicked and she tugged the cuff off her wrist. Then Matilda threw up her hands, bent paperclip still held between two fingers. "Done."

"Under two minutes." Joseph shrugged. "Impressive. Ya wanna try again or ya up to spar?"

She tucked the handcuffs away in her bag and worked out the tension in her wrists. "Actually, I've gotta head out, now. We can spar next time. Sorry, Joe. I gotta go help Stevie with his schoolwork. He's having a touch of trouble."

Joseph scoffed. "Sure. Whatever."

Matilda adjusted her bag and threw him a look. "You don't have to be grumpy about it. I'll see ya!" She jogged off down the street. Once she'd turned the corner, she broke into a full run. As she approached the general store, she saw that a load of produce was being dropped off. Matilda slowed a tad bit and, when the seller and storekeeper's backs were turned, swiped an apple as she dashed by. After turning down the next street, she bit into stolen fruit.

The apple was devoured by the time she slowed as she approached home. Matilda tossed it towards the dog the Coopers had tied up outside their apartment door. "Go crazy," she told him absently. She jogged up the stairs and pushed her way into the apartment.

"Matilda, is that you?" Sarah called loudly from farther inside. "Stay outside! Okay? I'll be there in a second!"

Matilda froze in the doorway, focusing in on the way her mother's words shook. "Mum? You okay?"

"Just wait outside!"

She stepped back and let the door close, frowning. She tucked her thumbs under the straps of her bag and stared up at the worn numbers on the door. The time strolled past slowly and Matilda started tapping her foot, anxiety building in her chest.

The door opened and Sarah slipped out. She smiled tiredly as she carefully closed the door. Then she dropped to her knees and pulled Matilda into her arms. "How has your day been?" she asked.

Matilda squirmed and pushed back. "Mom, is Stevie okay? I thought he just had a cough this morning."

"He . . . he's okay, Matilda. He will be. It's just a little worse than a cough."

"Mom."

"But he'll be fine. I made some soup and—"

"Mom," Matilda interrupted again. "What is it this time?"

"It's, uh." Sarah cleared her throat and focused on running her fingers through Matilda's hair. "It's scarlet fever. He'll be okay, but you just can't go near him for now. I don't want you getting sick too. That's all."

"That's all? He's gonna be okay?"

"He's going to be okay. I promise. I just need you to stay out of the apartment as much as you can. And you'll stay in my room at night, okay?"

Matilda nodded. "Okay. Only if you're sure he'll be okay."

* * *

"Dismissed."

Matilda stared down at her paper and realized for the first time that she hadn't written down a single thing. With a sigh, she closed her notebook and shoved it into her bag.

"What it is?"

She looked up to find Howard standing by her, frowning. "What's that, Howie?"

"You're actin' weird. What's wrong?"

"Stevie's been sick. I'm just worried."

"Oh." He shifted awkwardly. "I've gotta go home. Ma needs my help with some needlework."

"Okay." Matilda pulled herself up and waved to him. "Go on." She watched as he raced out of the room. She wasn't in a hurry to leave and settled into a slow pace, knowing she wouldn't be allowed inside once she got home anyway. She shuffled along outside.

"Hey! Rogers!"

Matilda paused and straightened, looking back. "Barnes," she greeted hesitantly, watching as he jogged up to her.

"Uh, Tilda or sumthin', right?" he asked hesitantly, offering her a cheeky grin as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Matilda," she corrected, crossing his arms.

"Right. Tilly."

"Matilda."

"Uh-huh." He moved on past that quickly. "Where's Steve? He hasn't been around."

"He's been sick. Pretty bad."

Bucky winced sympathetically. "Poor guy. I should get him flowers, I guess."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "No, no. That's nice, but it'd mess with his breathing. He has pretty bad asthma."

"Ah. I'll think of something else."

"You don't have to get him anything."

"Sure I do. It's nice to do when people are sick."

"He's sick all the time," she pointed out. "If you got him something every time he was sick, we'd run out of space."

"Just this one time, then," Bucky assured her. "Here, you can help me." He offered her his arm. "I've got some pocket change. What's something he likes?"

Matilda stared at him for a very long time but his arm never dropped. So she nodded and put her hand in the crook of his arm. "Baseball. He likes baseball."

* * *

Matilda hesitantly pushed her way into the apartment, wondering if she was going to be asked to leave because it as too early. "Ma?" she called carefully.

"Matilda? Come here!"

Panic rammed itself between Matilda's ribs and she raced forward, throwing open Steve's door. "What is it? Is he—" She stopped short, staring at where Steve was sitting up on the bed and eating soup. He looked up at her and gave her a tired smile. Matilda dropped her bag and then marched forward. "You're okay," she choked out.

"Of course," he said, pouting at her. "I'm strong, remember?"

She grinned. "Of course I remember, Stevie. You're the strongest." She leaned forward and hesitated, glancing towards her mother. When Sarah nodded, Matilda pressed a kiss against Steve's forehead. "I'm glad you're better. Oh!" She pulled back and scrambled back over to her bag. "Bucky got ya something." She pulled out the baseball, tossing it up and down. "You think you're gonna be up for a game this weekend?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Yeah!"

* * *

Matilda shoved open the door with her foot, pulling the loaf out of her bag. "Ma, I got the bread! But I didn't have enough to get the eggs, so—"

"Out! Out!"

Matilda almost dropped the bread, freezing. "Ma?"

Sarah waved her hands at her and quickly approached the door. After Matilda backed up over the threshold, Sarah stepped out and closed the door. "I'm sorry."

"Is . . . is he sick again?"

"Yes."

Matilda's shoulders dropped and she held out the bread. Once Sarah had taken it, she murmured, "It's not as bad as last time, is it?"

"It's . . . worse." Sarah sighed. "I've already talked to Oscar about lower shift numbers again this week. I have to stay with Steven as much as I can."

"But what about money? Ma, I couldn't even buy the _eggs_ today. What about—"

"Shh. I know, I know." Sarah sighed and dropped to her knees. She curled a hand around Matilda's waist and rested her forehead forward on her daughter's. "You worry so much," she whispered. "We'll be okay."

"H-how?" Matilda rasped.

"I don't know. I don't know. But we will be."


	6. Chapter 5 - Bankrolls

I give you the sixth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Five - Bankrolls

"Ma."

Sarah sighed, pausing in washing the dishes with her back still turned. "Matilda, you're not supposed to be in here. You know that."

"I know. But look."

Sarah turned, looking exhausted. But then she paused. "Sweetheart, why are you wearing Steve's clothes?"

Matilda's scalp itched and she finally gave in. She took off the cap and messed with the hair clumsily bound up on her head, scratching. "Look," she just said again, holding out her hand.

Sarah frowned and stepped forward, taking it. Then she gasped, turning the money over. "Matilda, how—" Her wide gaze raked over the male clothes Matilda was wearing. "What are you doing?"

"I'm delivering newspapers." She managed to get the last pin out of her hair and shook it out. "They think my name is Matt."

"Oh, honey, you didn't have to—"

"Yes I did," Matilda said firmly. "Stevie needs food, Ma. You need food. I need food. But I know you've gotta stay here with Steve as much as you can."

"I know. I know, but you—"

"I want to help," Matilda whispered. "Please just let me help."

Sarah stared at her for a long moment. Then she sighed and her shoulders sagged. She tucked the money away into her dress pocket. "Of course, Matilda. Of course." She pulled her forward into her arms and pressed a kiss against her cheek. "I love you. What would I do without you?"

* * *

"High school?"

"Yeah. 'Cause she's super smart."

Bucky just kept blinking and then he glanced towards Matilda. "That's impressive, Tilly. You gonna share some of those smarts?"

"Matilda," she corrected, more out of habit than actual annoyance at the name. "And it doesn't work like that. Besides, it's not just me. Howard is moving up too."

"Damn right I am." Howard grinned. "If I move up a little faster, then maybe I can get Matilda to stop shadowing me."

"Shadowing _you?"_ Matilda scoffed. "You're shadowing me, if anything." She crossed her arms. "You're just upset 'cause a girl is better than you."

 _"_ _Equal,"_ he stressed. "You're equal at the most. Definitely not better."

"Wow," she mumbled. "Generous."

"Well, we've gotta celebrate, right?" Bucky asked.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Matilda asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Well, we're not really old enough to go _out_ dancing, but my Ma has a record player. We could hang at my place."

Steve frowned. "Dancing? I don't know how to do that."

"Ya don't know how to dance?" Bucky asked, looking almost horrified. "That's awful! C'mon, let's go!" He took off at a jog, not so fast that Steve couldn't keep up but just fast enough to push him.

Matilda fell into easy step beside them all. "And what, you're gonna teach us all to dance?"

"I know how to dance," Howard protested. "He's not the only one."

"Looks like we just need to teach you two," Bucky said, grinning.

Two hours into it, Steve was frustrated. "I'm just clumsy," he whined. "I'll never get it."

"Doesn't matter," Howard called from where he was lounging on the couch. "You got the gist of it. Come put your feet up for a bit."

Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding and moving to join Howard. Bucky glanced at Matilda. "What about you? Ya done?"

"No way," she said, frowning. "I'm gonna get this perfect."

He laughed. "That's 'bout what I expected. Hold on." He dropped the needle back at the beginning of the record and it took a moment for it to find its place. "Ready?" He held out his hand.

She nodded and stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder and her other hand in his. "Got it." She glanced down at their feet as they started, murmuring the movements to herself.

Bucky dropped her hand and tapped her forehead. "Ya think too much. Ya gotta _feel_ it."

"I do _not_ think too—"

"Yeah, ya do. C'mon." He took her hand back in his and started over. "Try it again."

* * *

Matilda turned over again, growling at how impossible sleep seemed. The bed was too hot. Her hands and feet were too cold. Her head was too stuffy. She groaned and turned back over. Her nose itched. God, why did her nose itch so much. Matilda rubbed her nose with her blanket.

 _Achoo!_

Matilda froze, blanket still over her nose. Her gaze flicked to Steve but he hadn't stirred in his sleep.

 _Achoo!_

Matilda propelled herself up from her bed and in a rush grabbed her clothes and shoes before scrambling from the room. She shut the door tightly behind herself.

 _Achoo!_

She stumbled down the hallway and glanced towards the clock. Four thirty-two. Had she really been up all night? Yawning widely, she slumped onto the couch and began to change. After tugging on her shoes, she twisted her hair up and pinned it in place with more force than was probably necessary. Matilda yanked the hat down over her head.

She headed out the door, a bit early but nothing too bad, and unchained her bike. It was a short ride to pick up her papers for the day. By the time she'd picked them up, the sky had opened up and it had started to rain.

 _Achoo!_

Matilda groaned and pedaled harder, doing her best to push herself through the rapidly building puddles. She habitually tossed the newspapers as she passed the houses, the rain blinding her and making her rely primarily on memory. She missed a turn and didn't realize it for an entire block. Matilda cursed and got off her bike, gathering up the newspapers she had thrown into the wrong yards. Then she started off again.

 _Achoo!_

"Shit," Matilda mumbled, rubbing her nose. The cold rain was just making the congestion in her head a thousand times worse.

 _Achoo!_

Her front wheel hit something and the entire world tilted. Matilda bit back a cry of alarm and crashed into the ground face first. Water battered her back and she groaned, pushing herself up. Her arms shook and the pressure in her chest was worse.

 _Achoo!_

When she tried to climb up to her feet, her ankle rolled and she fumbled to catch herself, only managing to fall sideways onto her mud-covered bike. She bit down harshly on her lip to force down the pain boiling in her stomach. She tried to get up again but failed.

 _Achoo!_

"Hey! You 'kay?" a voice called through the rain.

Matilda rubbed her face and hissed when she hit raw skin. "Uh, yeah." She looked up at the figure approaching in the rain. When he got closer, she blinked. "Barnes?" she called over the rain.

His eyes widened. "Tilly? Whatcha doin' out here? It's storming!"

"I noticed," she groused, trying to pull herself to her feet again. Pain stabbed through her ankle and she fell.

Bucky lunched forward and caught her. "Careful. C'mon, let's get you inside."

"Inside _where?"_ she muttered.

"My house," he said, as if it was obvious. Right this way."

"But my—"

"I'll come back for it." With that said, he scooped her up into his arms so she didn't had to walk on her hurt leg. Matilda tried to protest.

 _Achoo!_

She sniffled and rubbed her face. Some of her hair had come out from underneath her cap, now plastered against her skin. And the congestion in her nose was getting worse and worse. "You don't hafta—"

"You're heavier than I thought you would be," he interrupted, stepping up the porch steps.

"Hey!" She rapped her knuckles on his forehead. "That's rude! You can't just say that to a lady!"

"You're a lady?" he asked curiously, awkwardly managing to open the door. "Ma!" he called. "We've gotta visitor!" He closed the door with his foot.

The woman in the kitchen looked up, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh my! Here, let me get some towels and then we'll put her on the couch."

"What happened to your face?" Bucky asked bluntly.

Matilda wrinkled her nose and felt the way it pulled at the scraped skin. "You're a real charmer."

"Yeah, well, I try."

 _Achoo!_

"Ma!"

"I'm here, I'm here," the woman said, spreading a towel out over the couch. "There we go." As Bucky set Matilda down, his mother wrapped her up tightly in a towel. "What's your name, dearie?"

"Ma," Bucky interrupted. "This is Tilly Rogers, Steve's sister."

"Matilda," she corrected, words a little muffled from the towel pulled around the lower half of her face.

"I'll go get your bike." With that, Bucky turned and left.

His mother took off Matilda's cap and then began to tug at her hair until it came loose. "My name's Winifred. It's nice to meet you." She picked up another towel and began drying the girl's hair. "How do you feel?"

 _Achoo!_

Bucky came back inside, closing the door loudly behind him. He tugged off his jacket and glanced towards them. "How's she doin'?"

 _Achoo!_

"Oh, dear. Here, try to warm yourself up. I'll make you some soup."

"You don't have to," — _Achoo!—_ "do that."

"Don't listen to her, Ma. Tilly doesn't know what's good for her."

* * *

"It's a celebration!" Sarah announced, setting a cupcake in front of each of them.

Steve grinned and dug in immediately while Bucky gave his thanks. Howard studied the cupcake from every angle at first before almost swallowing it whole. Matilda frowned at the cupcake and then looked up. "Ma—"

"Aren't ya gonna eat, Tilly?"

She glanced at Bucky, who was watching her expectantly, his own cupcake barely touched. She frowned and looked from the cupcake to her mother. She knew that these weren't cheap and she knew that rent was due that week. "Ma," she tried again.

"Eat, sweetheart," Sarah said with a smile, pushing the plate closer to her. "You deserve this. You've worked so hard."

"Howie and I are applying to Cornell," she said, picking up the cupcake. "Our teacher said he'll probably get in full scholarship. Not sure about me, since I'm a girl." She finally took a bite.

"That's stupid," Bucky said. "You're the smartest person I know, girl or not."

"Hey," Howard protested, frowning. "What about me?"

"Sorry, pal. You're no match for Tilly."

Matilda grinned, wiping the frosting from her upper lip. "Barnes knows what he's talking about, Howie. You should listen to him."

"'You should listen to him,'" Howard mocked in a high pitched voice. After a moment, he said, "I won't go to Cornell if they don't let you in."

She looked over at him sharply. "Howard—"

"I won't. I mean it."

She stared at him for a very long time. Then she nodded. "Thank you."


	7. Chapter 6 - Watershed

**Author's Note:** There's a bit of a jump from the last chapter to this one. At the last chapter, Matilda was twelve and just graduating, about to head off to Cornell in a few months. Now, she's sixteen and finished with her time in university. She and Howard now work full-time, him with several inventors and her as a auto-shop mechanic, because no other place would take her except for one that desperately needed someone who knew what they were doing.

I give you the seventh installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Six - Watershed

"And I got to present our research to everyone there! They asked a lot of questions and I think they would have been easier to answer if you were there but I did my best. And they thought they were some of the most impressive ideas they'd ever heard."

"Howie—"

"And don't worry, Tills, I made sure to mention your name plenty. I didn't take all the credit."

"Howie—"

"Not that it wasn't tempting! I mean, it was pretty damn tempting. But I knew you'd never forgive me for it, so—"

"Howard!"

He blinked. "What, you think I should have mentioned your name more?"

"No. You mentioned my name at least once, so that's as much as I care. Now hand me the goddamn wrench."

"What— Oh." He tossed her the wrench and she caught it easily. As she wheeled herself back under the car, Howard continued. "I did a lot of thinking too. You know that idea we had?"

"Uh-huh." She grunted as she tightened the bolt, not asking for clarification. She knew _exactly_ what idea he was talking about. She wiped down the pipe with her rag and then tucked it back into her pocket. "What about it?"

"I like it. We should do it."

"It's risky."

"I know. But without it, you're gonna be stuck fixin' cars for the rest of your life. You really happy with that?"

She rolled back out from under the car and sat up. "I'm happy that it puts food on the table and that I can pay for Steve's medical bills. I'm happy that it means my mom doesn't have to work as much."

"Answer the question straight. No dodging."

She shoved herself to her feet with a grunt, wiping her hands on her pants. For a long moment, she considered the question. Then she asked, "What would we call it?"

"Stark Enterprises. Or maybe Stark Venture. Or— Actually, we can put Rogers in there. That'd be fair. Stark and Rogers Industries?"

Matilda hesitated and then shook her head vehemently. "No. If anyone is gonna make something of the Rogers name, it's Steve. I'm not gonna take that from him."

Howard cocked his head to the side. "You really think he's gonna do it, huh?"

"Just you watch. Someday, Stevie's stuff is gonna be in the Louvre." The pride that she always associated with her brother crept into her voice.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Please do." She wiped the sweat from her face with her rag and then frowned, scrubbing at the grease she felt on her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Stark Industries. I like it. It has a nice ring to it."

"I like it too," he agreed. "It has a lot of . . . me."

Matilda barked out a laugh. "Of course that's what you like about it." She ducked into the car and slotted the key into the ignition. After a moment, it came to life. "It's purring," she mumbled. "All fixed." She turned the car off and got out. "We're going dancing tonight. You up for it?"

"I was going to go over some designs and—"

"Great." She tossed her grease-stained rag at him and it hit him in the face. "I'll see you at six." She knocked loudly on the doorframe to the mechanic shop and opened the door. "Samuel McBride's car is fixed!" she called, hanging the key on its hook by the door. "I'm headed out!"

It took a moment but then she heard a call of affirmation so she backed up and turned. "You've got oil on your face."

Howard pulled an upset expression and scrubbed at his cheek. "I wonder whose fault that is."

She shrugged and started wheeling her bike out of the garage. "No idea." She swung up on the seat. Matilda waved to him and then pushed off. "Don't forget! Six!"

The ride home was short and uneventful—she only screamed at one stupid driver that almost hit her by going the wrong way down the street—and she chained up her bike, whistling to the Coopers' dog. "Here, boy!" she chirped, digging the leftover chicken bone from her lunch out of her pocket and tossing it to him. She jogged up the stairs.

"Juno!" Steve greeted the moment she was inside. "Look who's early!"

She blinked, halfway through unhooking one strap of her overalls. "Bucky? We're not leaving until six." She glanced at the clock just to double check and, just like she had thought, it was only nine minutes past five.

"Well, if you're that upset over me being here ahead of time, I can just leave," he said. But he showed no sign of getting up from the couch and he winked at her.

She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible." She started towards the hallway and stopped just long enough to kiss Steve's cheek. "I'm gonna take a shower. Howard's joining us."

"Did he say that or did you tell him that?" Steve asked, twisting a little to watch her as she left.

"I can't believe you would ask me that!" Then she disappeared into the bathroom without answering.

When she left her room forty minutes later, fastening on her earrings, she found Bucky and Steve listening while Howard spoke animatedly, waving his hands. The floorboards creaked as she stepped into the living room and Steve glanced back. "Is he serious? You two are gonna start your own place?"

"I think so," she mused. "We have to do some research, find some investors, secure the capital to begin, find real estate to base out operations out of, hire at least one—"

"That's all semantics!" Howard said, waving his arms wildly. As soon as Matilda was close enough, he threw one arm around her and held the other up dramatically as if pointing at something. "Think of it, Tills! Our names up in bright lights!"

"Sounds amazing. Could I put my shoes on now?" She pulled away and the boys separated farther apart on the couch to give her room. As she put her shoes on, she said, "It's not happening right away, no matter what Howard says. There's a lot of thought that has to go into this if it's going to work. And I do want it to work."

* * *

"Tomorrow? Really?"

Bucky nodded.

Howard laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "You sly dog!"

"You know, Howie," Matilda commented absently. "You could probably snag a dame too if you spent more time dancing and less time yapping."

He shot her a look. "You're one to talk. You've skipped five songs now, haven't you? Six?"

Matilda rolled her eyes and grabbed Steve's hand. "C'mon. Dance with me." She pulled him out to the dance floor and they fell easily into the familiar steps.

Steve spun her out, rising just a touch on his toes so he could do so with her stooping to compensate for their height differences. "Hey, Juno?" he asked.

"Yeah?" She spun back in and rested her hand on his shoulder again. "What is it?"

"What will happen if you and Howard really do make that company?"

"If we're successful?" She mused about it for a moment and found herself back-leading when she looked down. Matilda quickly apologized and adjusted. "Well, if we're successful, then it means more money for the family. Ma wouldn't have to work anymore, maybe. I could put you in art school."

"That's not a priority."

"Maybe not to you," she agreed. "We've talked about this Stevie; I wanna see your work in museums."

"That's not gonna happen, Juno. I like drawing, but—"

"But nothing, Stevie." She dropped his hand just long enough to flick his forehead. "You might not think you're great, but I think you're _amazing._ Don't you trust me?"

He wrinkled his nose. "That's not a fair question and you know it."

"I never said it was gonna be fair," she said, grinning. "You know me better than that, Stevie. You ask fair questions and you might not like the answer you get."

"That's ridiculous and you know it."

She shrugged. "Maybe." The music ended and they paused in wait for the next one to begin. Matilda looked up to see Bucky crossing the dance floor and she smiled at him.

Steve looked back just in time and smiled. "You wanna dance with her, Buck?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind, punk." He held out his hand.

Steve let go and stepped away, looking semi-relieved to not be dancing anymore. Matilda stepped into Bucky's arms and took his hand. "You wanted a better dancer than all the other gals around here?"

"The other gals are fine," he said absently. "But you and I have to keep practicin', right?"

"Practicing for what?" she asked, rolling her eyes. She let him spin her out and then back in. "We've been dancing together for years. It's not like we're gonna forget how if we don't dance together just one time."

"Don't wanna risk it."

"You're impossible."

"So you've told me before." He spun her out again and they spent a little time farther away from each other before he spun her back in. "So this Stark Industries thing . . . ."

"You too? Steve was just askin' me about that."

"Don't worry, I don't have a ton of questions. I just wanna know why it's Howard's name and not yours."

"The Rogers name is for Stevie."

"Ah. Ya know, I don't know how I could have expected you to say anything else."

"Well, if you would think about it more—"

"Uh-ah." He shook his head. "Overthinking is for you, remember?"

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "I remember."

* * *

Bucky shoved his way into the house, taking off his jacket and shaking it out in hopes of getting rid of some of the smell of salt and sweat that clung to it. He looked up and stopped short. "What's goin' on, Tilly?"

"Happy birthday!" Matilda said, standing in the middle of the group and holding out a small cake. When Bucky didn't move for a moment, she laughed. "You forgot, didn't you, Barnes?"

He shrugged and grinned hesitantly, taking off his cap. "Something like that. This all for me, Ma?" he asked, glancing at the woman standing next to Matilda.

Winifred nodded, smiling widely. "I had small plans but Matilda suggested this to me instead and, with her help, it was easy."

"You didn't have to do that," he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don't be stupid." Matilda set the cake down on the table. "C'mon! We all got you presents. Well, one present, but still. Come sit!" She stepped forward and then ushered him over to the couch before he could even take his shoes off. She pushed a small wrapped box into his hands.

Bucky stared at it for a long moment and turned over the card in his hands that had been attached to his gift. But he didn't open it.

"C'mon, anytime now," Howard said, crossing his arms. "Just open it. Who cares about the card?"

"Stark," Steve said, frowning. "The card's from Juno."

"Yeah, yeah. But it's not from us. C'mon!"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Alright, I've got it." He tucked the card into his pocket and stripped away the brown paper to reveal a box. He creaked it open and his eyes widened. "Okay, when I said that you didn't have to do this, I really meant—"

"Do you like it?" Matilda pressed, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, she looked anxious. "Did we get something good?"

He stared at her incredulously. "Good?" He lifted out the pocket watch and studied it. "This is amazing! You really didn't—"

"If you say that one more time, I'm gonna lose it," Matilda said. Her voice was sweet, but her grip on his shoulder was tight.

Bucky grinned up at her. "Fine. I love it."

"Great!" Howard clapped his hands together. "That means cake now, right?"

"Howie," Matilda groaned. "Yes, alright. I'll cut it." She drew back from Bucky and moved towards the kitchen. Bucky frowned at her as she left, rubbing his cold shoulder. "Bucky gets the first piece," she warned Howard as he hovered over her while she cut the cake. She dished out the pieces and then brought a plate to Bucky. "Here you go. Eat up."

"Thanks, Tilly."

She dropped down on the couch next to him and dug into her own slice of cake. "How was your day?"

"Good," he said. And then after a moment, he added, "Exhausting."

"Hmm. I can imagine the docks would do that to ya." She reached out and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. "Howie and I have work to do on SI tonight, so I'm afraid we can't stay long. I'm sorry."

"No, you've done more than enough, doll. Don't apologize." He polished off his small slice of cake easily and moved to set the plate aside. Instead, it was taken by Matilda. She got to her feet and leaned down, kissing the top of his head before murmuring something about having to go.

Bucky got to his feet just in time to wave to the three as they headed out the door. He blinked, a little miffed by how quickly they had gone.

"She's very sweet," Winifred said, putting the last plate in the sink.

"Yeah, she is," Bucky mused, shoving his hands in his pockets. Something crinkled and he looked down, pulling out the card. Bucky sat down and opened the envelope. The card was plain stationary, adored with Matilda's familiar handwriting, which was a cross between something elegant and something frantic. Her writing was probably longer than it should have been and it looked like she'd gotten distracted halfway through and started rambling a car she'd worked on that she had thought he'd like. He smiled, turning the card over to read the rest of it. She finally managed to get herself back on track and wrote out happy birthday three times to make up for it. Finally, at the bottom, she'd signed in scrawling cursive.

 _Your friend,_

 _Matilda_

Bucky started at the card for a long time. Probably longer than he realized, because when he looked up his mother had left the room. He swallowed and looked down again.

"Oh."

* * *

"How is she?"

Bucky jumped, looking up to find Matilda standing in front of him, a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. He swallowed thickly. "Um, they said—" He stopped and clearly his throat, voice raspy. "They said she's getting worse."

She hesitated and then sat down next to him. A hand on his back, she murmured, "She seemed just fine when we left last night."

"Yeah. The doc said heart attacks can be like that." He dragged his hands down his face. "Those for her?"

Matilda looked down at the flowers and nodded. "From me and Steve, he wanted to come, but . . . . You know Stevie and hospitals. I didn't want him getting sick."

"No, no, that makes sense. You coulda stayed with him. You didn't have to come here."

"You need to stop doing that." She set the flowers down and curled her hand around his arm. Her free hand took his and she began pressing circles into his palm almost absently, as if she didn't realize what she was doing. "You act like we're treating you like an obligation, but we're not. You're our friend, Barnes. Stevie and I don't have much—we have Ma, Howie, and you. Give us that."

He closed his eyes and leaned into her shoulder. "I don't have much either," he murmured. "I don't wanna lose Ma."

Matilda didn't have an answer for that. She leaned her head against his and just hummed in acknowledgement of his words, continuing to hold his hand. Finally, she whispered, "We're here for you. No matter what."

"Thank you."

* * *

"You didn't come dancing with us."

Bucky didn't more from the doorway, shoving his hands in his pockets with his head down. "I didn't feel like it."

He expected some kind of resistance, but Matilda just nodded. "Okay. I made cookies before we left, so I brought some for you." She held out the plate for him to take.

He hesitated, studying her as if trying to figure out if she was going to demand to come inside. He took the plate. "Thank you."

"How are you feeling?"

He flinched and didn't answer.

"Ah," she murmured. "We're still here for you, ya know."

"I know. Thank you."

Matilda stepped up but didn't push past him through the door. Instead she tugged on his shirt sleeve until he bowed his head so that she could kiss her forehead. "Things get better," she promised him quietly. With that said, she stepped back. Matilda turned and left with a wave.

Bucky stepped back and closed the door. He leaned back against the door and looked down at the plate before lifting off the cover. Sitting atop the few cookies she'd given him was a note

 _You're always welcome at our place, especially for breakfast._

 _Your friend,_

 _Matilda_

He groaned and thudded his head back against the door, eye screwed closed. "Fuck," he muttered. "Ma," he whispered. "I kinda need you right now."

* * *

"Gimme!" Matilda grinned, holding out her hands for the gift Howard was tempting her with. He gave up and tossed it to her with a roll of his eyes. She peeled away the paper and opened the box. Her eyes widened. "Whoa. Howie!"

"You're gonna need it, right? You've gotta look nice when we're getting the company set up."

She lifted the blue dress from the box and smiled widely. "Thank you. This will be great." She carefully folded the dress back up and put it in the box. "Now that gifts are done, I made lunch!" Matilda pushed the basket forward. "Dig in!"

Steve was the first to get the basket open and he grinned. "This looks great!"

"Gimme a sandwich, would you, punk?" Bucky asked, flicking his lighter and holding it up to his cigarette. He tucked his lighter away and puffed, looking up as he leaned back. Only to find Matilda frowning at him. Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Could you not do that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Cigarettes bother you?"

"Something like that," she said, frowning as if thinking back to something.

"Oh. Okay." He dropped the cigarette and awkwardly put it out with the heel of his foot. He took the sandwich Steve passed to him with a nod. "So, how's it feel?"

Steve shrugged. "Dunno. Seventeen feels a lot like sixteen. People don't treat me any different now that I'm older." He cocked his head to the side. "They treat Juno different, though. A fella asked her out last week."

"Oh?" Bucky's gaze flicked to her. "Who's the lucky fella?"

"No one," she said easily. "I turned him down. I'm not really interested in dating." She shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich. After she swallowed, she said, "What about you, Barnes? I haven't seen you go out with a girl for a couple months now."

"I have a date Thursday," he said, shrugging. "Her name's Laura."

"Ah." Matilda smiled. "Good luck, then. What about you, Howie? Hannah ever respond positively to you asking her out?"

Howard scoffed. "Please. We went out a few times but it didn't work."

Matilda rolled her eyes. "You know, you get bored too easily."

"And you're too picky. That's the fifth guy to ask you out this month, right? And you turned down all of them?"

"Five fellas?" Bucky asked, voice crescendoing a bit.

She glanced at him and shrugged. "I just told them I wasn't interested."

"And that's true?" Howard asked doubtfully.

She nodded. "It's true."

* * *

Steve rubbed his eyes, blinking as he stood at the end of the hallway. "Buck?"

Matilda looked up and smiled. "Stevie! Breakfast is ready and look who came to join us!" She set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of their guest. "Ma, do you have time to eat?"

"Sorry, Matilda," Sarah said, pinning her nurse's cap on. "I have to go. I'm almost late."

Matilda frowned. "Here." She took an apple and washed it off. Then she handed it to her mother. "At least take that."

Sarah smiled and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll be back late." She escaped out the door.

"Take a seat, Stevie," Matilda said, putting another plate on the table for him before sitting down herself. "How was your date, Bucky?"

He shrugged. "Good."

Matilda blinked. "Good?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah. Good."

Steve frowned. "That bad, huh? I take it there's not gonna be a second date?"

Bucky shrugged again and pushed his eggs around on his plate. "Probably not."

"Hey, Barnes?"

He looked up at Matilda. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

He watched her for a long moment, taking in the way she was looking at him with concern. Then he glanced down at the breakfast she'd made him. Bucky nodded. "Yeah. I'm doing great."


	8. Chapter 7 - Wreck

I give you the eighth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Seven - Wreck

"Ma?" Matilda asked, pushing into the room. Her voice was muffled by the surgical mask and she picked her way through the dark bedroom, doing her best not to spill the thin soup or water was was carrying. "How are you feelin'?"

Sarah was hacking into her hand and Matilda stopped by the bed, patiently waiting for her to stop. Finally, the woman gasped and fell into her pillow. When she dropped her hand, she rasped out, "I'm gettin' worse, sweetheart."

Matilda flinched. "I know." She set the bowl and glass down and fished the rag out of her pocket. Without a word about it, she began cleaning the phlegm and blood off of her mother's palm. She took in the way the woman was shivering. "Cold?"

"Always."

Matilda tucked the rag back in her pocket and went about tightening the blankets around Sarah in hopes of keeping her warm. "I know the window is making it colder, but you need the fresh air."

"I know."

"Are you hungry?"

Sarah shook her head and the frown that tugged at her face just make the gauntness to her cheeks worse. "I know I should eat, but I just can't."

Matilda pulled up the chair next to the bed and sat down. "Ma, please just try. Please."

Sarah sighed and then devolved into more coughing. As Matilda cleaned her hands again, she murmured, "Okay. I'll try."

"Thank you." Matilda picked up the bowl and filled the spoon. "Careful," she murmured, spooning the thin soup into Sarah's mouth. After a few bites, Sarah shook her head. Matilda's heart fell. "Ma, please. Just . . . ." She sighed and set the bowl down. "Okay. Okay." She supported Sarah's head and helped her take a couple sips of water. "You're doing better," she whispered. "Hold still." Matilda helped her lie down better and wiped away the sweat building on her forehead. "You're doing so much better."

Sarah laughed weakly, though it was muffled by her hoarse breathing. "I know what sickness looks like, Matilda. And I know you're lying to me to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

"No."

Matilda sighed and then smiled, though she knew Sarah couldn't see it through her mask. "I'll get _Oz._ How does that sound?"

Sarah made a hum of agreement. Matilda gathered up the soup and left the room. She poured out the soup and set the bowl in the sink. Then she clutched the edge of the counter tightly with one hand and stripped off her mask with her other. She forced down one sob and then another, but she couldn't stop the tears down her cheeks. Once she'd somewhat steadied herself, she reached for the mask to put it on again.

 _Knock knock knock._

Matilda froze, looking towards the door. She put the mask down with shaking hands and hurried clawed away the evidence of her crying as she made her way to the door. When she opened the door, she found Howard standing there. "Howie," she hissed, stepping out and closing the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"Barnes and Steve have been worried," Howard said, shrugging. "They asked me to check up on you and your Ma. Well . . . Steve was the one that did most of the asking." He reached for her. "Have you . . . been crying? You look—"

She sidestepped his hand. "Don't touch me. I don't wanna risk you getting sick."

He looked alarmed. "You're sick too? Why didn't you tell—"

"No, no, no." She shook her head furiously. "I'm not sick. I've been takin' care of Ma for three weeks and I haven't gotten sick, so I think I'm safe, maybe? But I can't say the same for you."

Howard swallowed thickly and pulled his hand back. "Right. How's she doin'?"

"She's . . . alive." Matilda hesitated and then repeated herself more strongly. "She's alive."

"She's getting worse?"

"I didn't say that."

"You meant that."

She dropped her gaze and hunched her shoulders. "Yeah . . . . Yeah, I did." Matilda reached back and twisted the doorknob. "You should go."

"Okay." He reached for her again as if to hug her only to quickly catch himself and draw back. "Okay." He turned away.

She stepped back into the house and locked the door. After grabbing her mask and the book, she moved back towards her mother's room and pushed her way inside. "Ma, you still up?"

There wasn't an answer.

Matilda stopped by her bed and stared down at her. Sarah's chest was rising and falling shakily and sweat stood out on her brow again, but her eyes were gently closed and her hands unclenched. Matilda sighed in relief and set the book on the nightstand. "I'm goin' to work now, Ma. I'll check up on you when I get back."

There was no answer, of course. Matilda backed out of the room and into the bathroom, where she stripped down out of her clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was cold and Matilda shivered as she used it to practically scrub herself raw. She shut the water off before too long—they couldn't afford anymore than what she'd already used, given Sarah hadn't worked for weeks and Matilda had managed to wheedle her hours down so she could take care of her.

After shimmying into her clothes and grabbing her bag, Matilda stepped down the apartment building stairs while braiding her damp hair back. She stopped in front of the empty spot where her bike was supposed to be and frowned.

Oh, right.

She'd let Steve take it since staying with Bucky meant he was farther from work.

How could she have forgotten that?

* * *

"Tilly."

Matilda squeaked in alarm and jerked, hitting her head on the engine block. With a groan and a hand to her head, she straightened. "Bucky? What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you."

"Howard already checked up on me."

"Yeah, a week ago." Bucky leaned against the side of the car and stared down at the engine. "How are you feeling?"

"What, you don't want to know how my mom is feeling?" She wiped her hands on her oily rag. When he didn't respond to that, she took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"Ya know," he said, tilting his head to the side, "I've known you for a long time, Tilly. I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not lying. I'm fine. I'm—" Her voice cracked and she snapped her mouth shut, teeth clicking. Bucky gave her a knowing look and she scowled. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Just _that!_ I'm _fine,_ okay? I, I'm—" She growled in frustration and tossed her wrench angrily at her workbench. Her toolbox jolted to the side and spilled all her tools onto the floor. "I'm fine!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bucky murmured, stepping forward and hesitating. "Tilly."

"I'm, I'm, I'm _fine,"_ she choked out, shoulders shaking. She rubbed her face, desperately trying and failing to keep back tears. Matilda stumbled forward into him and her grease-slicked fingers dug into his shirt. She finally gave in to her sobs.

Bucky pulled his arms around her and murmured, "I didn't mean to upset you," into her hair. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, sniffling. "N-no, I'm sorry for yelling," she whimpered. "I'm just . . . ."

"I know." Bucky tugged on her braid and murmured, "You don't have to apologize."

"Yeah, I do." She pulled back and rubbed her face, eyes red and puffy. "You don't deserve to be yelled at." And then, a moment later. "Shit."

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Sorry, I—" She winced. "I got oil all over your shirt. I'm sorry."

He looked down at the new black spots and smudges on his shirt and shrugged. "It's fine. I wear this to the docks, so it's not a big deal." He reached out and used his knuckles to brush away a few of her remaining tears. "You don't have to apologize for being upset, ya know."

"I have to apologize for yelling."

He shrugged. "If you want to." Then Bucky sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Listen, no matter what, Howard and I are here for you and Steve. Ya know that, right?"

She sniffled and nodded once. "I know."

* * *

"Good morning, Ma. I have some broth for you." Matilda set down the bowl and turned on the lamp. "Ma?" She frowned when Sarah didn't stir. "Ma?" Matilda leaned over her and felt the heat drain from her face. Sarah's chest wasn't moving. Matilda pressed her fingers against her throat, searching for a heartbeat. "No, no, no. Ma? C'mon?"

Sarah was still. And she was cold.

Matilda tripped back. "Um, I . . . . Um . . ." She stumbled out of the room and stripped off her surgical mask, gasping for air. "Right, right, right." Matilda fumbled her way to the phone and barely paid attention to what she was doing as she flipped through the phone book and dialed a number. She gave the address and then hung up.

The next few hours were . . . a blur, really. They arrived and took her mother away. Matilda stripped practically everything from her mother's room that could be contaminated and bagged it up tightly before hauling it out to the dumpster. She scrubbed the entire apartment clean and ran some water for her own clothes before scrubbing everything she'd worn for the past month with soap across the washboard. Finally, she washed herself in the shower until her skin was raw and red.

Matilda stared at herself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of her dress. Her eyes itched but they were dry. She nodded and stepped away. "Okay," she told herself. "Let's go."

She hunched her shoulders she walked, keeping her coat tight around herself. It was sunny and goddamn it shouldn't have been sunny. What right did the sky have to be happy right now? Matilda ducked her head and let her memory lead her.

When she stopped, she found herself standing in front of a familiar door. After a moment of hesitation, Matilda knocked and then stepped back, pulling her coat closer and shivering despite the fact that it wasn't actually that cold out. She sniffled, although her eyes were burning curiously dry. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had to put on a brave face. For Steve.

The door opened. "Tilly? How's your mom doing?"

She'd been ready for Steve and the way he always hung on every word she said. She'd been ready to depend on his indomitable will when she delivered the news. She'd been ready to be the big sister again; that made it easy to compartmentalize her own feelings and not have to face them.

She had forgotten to account for James Barnes.

The moment she met those sea foam blue eyes, every inch of her plan melted and suddenly that void she'd kept deep inside rose salty to the surface. "Bucky," she rasped.

His smile faded almost instantly and his expression folded into one of concern. "Matilda?" He reached out a hand to her.

She took a shaky breath and lifted her hand. But then she changed her mind and stepped forward, throwing her arms around his middle and burying herself into his chest. He stumbled back just a step in surprise. But then a strong arm came up around her and he shuffled backwards. The door creaked closed and his second arm came around to hug her. She inhaled deeply, leaning into the support he was offering. He didn't smell the greatest—too much like salt and sweat from the docks, and she could only assume he'd worked late and had been too tired to clean up like so many times before—but she didn't really mind.

"Is Steve here?" she whispered.

It took a couple heartbeats—and his were far more strong and steady than hers—for him to respond. "No. He's working. Won't be back for a good bit." He rubbed her back. "Let's get your coat off and get you a seat. Coffee or tea?"

She sniffled and pulled back, hurriedly wiping away the few tears that had escaped. "Um, tea." Her fingers trembled as she struggled to unbutton her coat.

"Here," he murmured, nudging her hands out of the way. As he unbuttoned her coat for her, he asked, "When?"

Matilda took a deep breath and turned so he could slip it off of her. Then she smoothed out the skirt of her dress. "Sometime last night. I didn't know until I went in with breakfast and . . . and she—"

"Okay," he interrupted softly, brow creasing. He reached up and touched her chin. "Okay, I understand." He took her left hand in his own and then curled his right arm around her waist, turning her towards the apartment's living room.

As he helped her sit down, she said, "I just came to tell Stevie. I don't want to bother—"

"Matilda Rogers, don't be stupid," he said, drawing back and crossing his arms. "It doesn't suit you."

She stared up at him. And then a smile played over her lips. "Okay."

"That's better." He reached out and tugged on one of her curls. "Alright. Tea is coming right up." He stepped into the kitchen and started heating up water. "There's a blanket and pillow next to the couch."

She glanced to the side. "What for?"

"Steve's been using them. But I figure you might want to take a nap, right?" He put the water on to boil and then moved to stand in front of the couch again. "Can I sit?"

She shifted to the side. "It's your home," she pointed out.

He sat down and shrugged. "I know. Still nice to ask." He reached over and pulled at one of her curls. "Alright. Talk to me."

"About my mom?" she asked in alarm.

"If ya want. Or you can tell me about what the weather was like on your walk over here. Or about your planning for your company. Whatever you want."

"Okay." She cleared her throat and wiped gently under her eyes. Matilda cleared her throat and gestured towards him. "Can I . . .?"

He shrugged and lifted his arm towards her. "I haven't washed up yet," he warned.

"I noticed." With that said, she pressed up against his side. His arm draped down around her and she reached up, curling her fingers around his hand. "Steve's been working more on his art lately. He's improving a lot."

"Hmm. I'm sure."

"He drew me the other day. Just pencil, but he makes me look pretty."

"You _are_ pretty, Tilly. I'd like to see that drawing sometime."

She giggled hoarsely. "I'll let him know." But then the laugh cracked into a sob and she turned, pressing herself into his shoulder. "What am I going to tell Steve?" she gasped out. She felt him start playing with her hair again as he sighed deeply. She screwed her eyes shut and felt a few hot tears escape.

"I can talk to him," Bucky murmured. "If that would be easier for you."

Matilda looked up suddenly, blinked through her teary vision. "Wh-what? I can't make you do that, Bucky."

He chuckled and then reached up, rubbing his knuckles against her wet cheeks. "You should know by now that you can't make me do anything, Rogers. I want to help. Let me talk to him." The teapot began to whistle and he cleared his throat, dropping his hand. Bucky got to his feet, pulling away from her, and she watched as he moved to the kitchen. Neither of them said anything as he prepared her tea. When he returned and pressed the teacup into her hands, he said, "Well?"

"Okay. If you're sure."

"I am."

She sipped at her tea. "Thank you," she whispered. "And thank you for letting Steve stay here. I honestly don't know what we would do without you."

He chuckled a little. "Let's not find out. How about that?"

"That sounds nice," she agreed, reaching up and tugging on his sleeve. "Sit down."

Bucky smiled and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her. "How are you feeling?" he murmured.

"Don't make me answer that." She leaned against him, eyes drifting closed.

"I won't."

"Thank you."

* * *

The knock was quiet, but it was more than enough to catch Bucky's attention. He glanced back at the couch, where Matilda was curled up with the pillow and blanket. He set down the tea he was making and moved to the door, opening it just as the knocking started again. "Steve," he greeted quietly, putting a finger to his lips.

Steve frowned in confusion, the look exacerbated by the exhaustion on his face, and stepped through the doorway. He caught sight of Matilda on the couch and stilled. "Buck?" he asked, voice breaking. "Is . . . ." He cut himself off, taking a shaky breath.

"Tilly said she died in her sleep," Bucky murmured, closing the door. "That she was gone when she went to give her breakfast. Nice 'n' peaceful like."

Steve's bag slipped a bit from his shoulder and he fumbled with it. Bucky reached out and took the bag from him. "Come on in," he said softly. "She's been out for a little while now. She was pretty tired when she showed up."

Steve just nodded but didn't move from his spot as Bucky set his bag aside. He sniffled and rubbed his face. "We knew it'd happen eventually, but . . . . Oh, god." With another sniffle, he shuffled over to the couch and crouched down beside it. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped himself. He turned and leaned against the couch, burying his face in his hands as he slid to the floor.

"You okay there, pal?" Bucky asked carefully.

Steve didn't look up but he did manage a nod. Bucky stepped forward and sat down next to him. "You're a shit liar, but I'll believe you if that's what you want."

Steve didn't answer for a long, long time and Bucky contented himself with listening to his breathing to make sure he didn't have an asthma attack. Finally, Steve pushed himself shakily to his feet. "I'm tired," he whispered.

"Take the bed," Bucky said, looking at up at him. "Get some sleep."

"Thanks, Buck." With that, Steve stumbled away into the bedroom.

Bucky sighed and leaned his head back against the couch, letting his eyes close. He let out a sigh and gave in to the tiredness that had been pulling at him ever since Matilda had shown up hours ago.

What felt just a moment later, Bucky jerked awake to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and then glanced back to find that Matilda had sat up. She drew her hand back and offered him an exhausted smile. "Sorry," she murmured. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"'s fine. Did ya need somethin'?"

"Um, Steve came back?" she asked hesitantly. "Did you— Is he— I mean—"

"I told him," Bucky assured her, shifting so he could see her better. "He's sleeping right now."

"Thank you." She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "Join me?"

Bucky turned and climbed onto the sofa next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful. Sorry for not wanting to tell you that earlier." Matilda hesitated for just a moment before curling into his side. "Hey, Bucky?"

"What is it?" he murmured, tucking his head down against hers.

"How did you deal with losing your mom?"

He thought about that for a moment before rubbing his hand over her shoulder comfortingly. "I had you. And Steve. It was hard, but I knew I'd be okay."

Matilda sniffled. "Oh. I . . . I think I'll be okay too, then. You'll be there for me, right?"

Bucky shifted and she looked up to find him staring at her, frowning just slightly. "Of course, doll. You don't have to ask that. I'll _always_ be there for you."

"Always?"

He played with one of her curls and then nudged her head back down against his shoulder. "Always, Tilly." He pressed a kiss against her hair and tightened his arms around her. "I promise."

* * *

Matilda fixed his tie silently, listening to the way his breathing was a little more raspy than normal. She finished and dropped her hands, tilting her head to the side. "Stevie?"

His gaze flicked up. "Yeah?" he mumbled.

Matilda sighed and lifted her gaze up to the cloudless sky above them. Then she took Steve's hand in hers and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It might not seem like it, but it's a beautiful day."

He flinched violently. "How can you say that?" he whispered. "It's Ma's funeral. How can you look at that and still . . . . How?"

"I'm not saying it feels like it," she assured him. "And I'm not even saying I see a beautiful day right now. But that doesn't mean it isn't."

"Juno . . . ."

"C'mon, Stevie," she urged, tugging on his hand. "They're waiting for us."

* * *

Bucky shoved the bed firmly against the wall with a grunt. He straightened and brushed off his hands. "Is that the last of it?" he asked, glancing towards Matilda. He paused in concern when he saw how pale she was. "Tilly?"

She jumped. "Um, yeah. That's it." She ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. "I'll unpack. Um, could you help Steve straighten up his room, now?"

"Of course." He started past her but paused, reaching out and sliding his hand around her wrist. "Tilly?"

She looked up but didn't say anything.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, right?" he asked, voice serious. "You'd tell me?"

"Of course I would."

It didn't convince him and he studied her guarded expression for a bit before sighing and letting his hand slide away from her wrist. "I don't believe you," he murmured before stepping out of the room. She closed the door behind him. Bucky sighed and pushed his way into what used to be the twins' shared room but now was just Steve's. "Need help?"

Steve looked up from where he was trying to shove his bed to the corner with the window, huffing and red in the face. "Uh, yeah."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Punk. I'll do the heavy stuff."

"I—"

"Get your other things." He pushed him aside and began moving the bed. When that was done and he had adjusted the nightstand accordingly, he looked back to find Steve standing in front of his small shelf. He stepped up next to him, glancing across the sparse belongings. Steve was holding a worn picture frame in his hands, inside a black and white picture from years ago. Sarah was smiling, a hand on each child. Steve was grinning widely at the camera, clutching Matilda's hand. And Matilda was glancing at Steve, smiling quietly.

"I miss her," Steve mumbled.

"Yeah, pal. I get it." Bucky messed up his hair. "Hey, you're taking care of Tilly, right?"

Steve looked up with a frown. "Of course," he said, as if it was obvious. "But it's hard when she doesn't want to talk to me."

"She doesn't want to talk to you?"

Steve shook his head. "She woke me up last night because she was crying and she left for work way early so she didn't hafta talk about it."

Bucky sighed, looking from the picture to the shelf. Next to a few trinkets and faded photos that Steve had collected over the years sat a creased page. Bucky picked it up and flattened it out. This must be the drawing Matilda had been talking about. It had clearly started out as a hurried sketch, but then confident lines had been darkened to finish off the product. The entire scene was laid out in varying shades of grey, though the background was mostly sparse and shadowed. Instead, the focus was on Matilda. She was working on something at the table, chewing on the end of her pen as she studied the papers in front of her. Her hair was in a bun but a couple curls had come loose around her face. And though her expression was partially hidden by her hair, Bucky could just imagine the clever look in her eyes because it was the same look she always got when working on something challenging.

"You can have that."

Bucky jumped, quickly folding the paper back up. He glanced to the side to find Steve staring at him, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Wh-what?"

"I said 'you can have that.' It's good, right?"

Bucky hesitated and then unfolded the drawing again. He took in the way that Steve had captured Matilda's focused air—the way she was lost to the world completely when concentrating on a project. "Yeah. Yeah, it's good."

"We don't have a picture of just her or I'd give that to you. But this is a close second, I guess."

Bucky folded up the page and put it back on the shelf, clearing his throat. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not dumb, Buck." His sharp tone made Bucky look at him and Steve was frowning. "I know exactly why that date with Laura didn't work out. Juno doesn't 'cause she's oblivious. She's so smart, but sometimes she just doesn't have any idea. But I know." Steve tilted his head to the side. "You're dizzy."

"I . . . ." Bucky cleared his throat. "You're a punk."

Steve smile and took the drawing, holding it out to him. "Take it."

Bucky stared at it for a long moment before accepting the paper. "Thank you." He tucked it away in his shirt pocket. "That, uh, that means a lot," he mumbled.


	9. Chapter 8 - Hear Tell

I give you the ninth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Eight - Hear Tell

"Tilly," Bucky whined playfully, leaning over her shoulder with his hands on the back of her chair. "What's the point of going out with us if you're just gonna work instead of dance?"

She didn't look up, still bent down over her papers. "I would have stayed home," —she paused to scratch out an equation that made his head hurt, and he wasn't exactly bad at math— "but someone wouldn't let me."

"Hey, don't put this on me." He reached down and plucked the pen from her hand.

"Barnes!" she said, looking up in alarm. "Hey!"

He grinned, waving the pen at her. "I get that you're working on your company, but so is Howard and _he_ still found the time to dance."

She turned in the chair a little to face him and frowned. "Give me my pen back. I need that!"

"Uh-uh-uh." He tucked the pen into his front pocket and patted it, feeling it alongside the paper there. "You get it back if you dance with me."

"You're being a child."

"And _you're_ being a curve."

She pouted at that. "Bucky, c'mon."

He held out his hand to her and grinned. "Or are you afraid that all this work has turned you into a dead hoofer?"

Her eyes widened and then she scoffed. "Me? As if." She straightened up her papers and shoved them back in her bag before taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. "You're really toeing the line, Barnes," she warned, stepping up to him as he led the dance.

"You're workin' too much," he said simply, but now all traces of humor were gone. "Ya know, you worry me, bird."

"I don't work too much," she said stubbornly. "There's no need for you to be worried."

"Isn't there?"

Her expression hardened and she stopped mid-dance, dropping her hands from him. "Barnes, if you have a problem, fine. But stay out of my business."

"And what? Just let you work yourself to death?"

"I'm _not—"_ She caught herself as her voice began to raise. Then she huffed. "You can keep the pen." She pushed past him back to her table and gathered up her bag.

"Tilly," he sighed, turning to follow her.

"Don't _Tilly_ me," she hissed, turning on him. "Listen, I'm trying to do something with my life. You may be happy working at the docks for the rest of time, but I want something long and sustainable. And yes, that requires some extra work. But I know exactly what I'm doing and I don't need you nagging me at every turn."

"I haven't been—"

"Yes you have," she ground out, clutching her bag. "I'm going home." She turned on her heel and marched away.

Bucky glanced across the room at where Howard and Steve were in deep conversation and then he looked at the clock. Swearing, he dashed after her and burst out into the humid night air. "Look, I'm sorry if I've been naggin', dollface," he said, rushing to catch up with her. "But I'm worried about you."

She glanced sharply at him and then pointedly looked away. "You've made that clear. But I can take care of myself."

"But you don't have to." He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. She stared square at his chest instead of meeting his gaze. Bucky reached out for her but then hesitated and dropped his hands. "You asked me to be there for you," he murmured. "And I promised. And I don't go back on promises, Tilly, you should know that."

Matilda's gaze flicked to the side and then back. She reached up and gently took the pen from his pocket. "You can walk me home," she whispered. "And . . . thank you. For caring."

Bucky watched her for a moment before letting his shoulders slump, determining that was about as good as it was going to be for now. He stepped to her side and offered her his arm. "I'm sorry that I made you angry."

She took his arm and they fell into step together. "Don't be. I get angry easily." She looked up at him and frowned as his expression. "Don't argue with that. You know it's true."

"Steve gets angry too," he pointed out. "So do I."

"It's not the same." She shook her head. "You get angry for good reasons."

"And Steve?"

She shrugged. "Steve's the good one out of the two of use. I'm the angry one." When he didn't say anything, she looked up at him pointedly. "See? You can't even counter that."

"No fair," he said, pouting. "You told me not to argue."

"It's not my fault that you listened for once." Matilda grinned and leaned into him, hand slipping down from his elbow into his own hand. "Sometimes I can't believe you manage to put up with me, Steve, _and_ Howard, Barnes."

Bucky's gaze flicked to their hands and then he smiled at her. "Well, I've had a few years' practice by this point. Otherwise the three of ya would be insufferable." He titled his head back to look up at the dark sky. "Tell me about SI?"

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

"Juno?"

Matilda groaned, eyes burning as she tried to open them. She groaned hoarsely and lifted her head. She wrinkled her nose and peeled off the paper stuck to her face. She managed to get her eyes open and peered at the fuzzy image in front of her. "S-stevie?" she rasped.

"God, Juno, you don't look so good."

"I, I— _Achoo!"_ She ducked her head into her elbow just in time. Then she felt her chest burn. "S-steve, get your things. I'm sick."

"What?"

"You n-need to stay with Bucky again. I— _Achoo!"_ She shuffled back awkwardly in her chair and waved a hand at him. "Go!"

"Are you sure? I can—"

"I can't get you s-sick, Stevie!"

"Right! Sorry!"

Matilda moaned, head pounding, and slumped back over the table. The sound of Steve scrambling to gather his things was achingly loud and she could hear him stumbling over himself towards the door. It creaked open and then shut loudly. She sighed, hot air catching in her throat. Then she drifted off again.

"Tilly? Time to wake up. Come on, Tilly. Get—"

She jerked up, flailing in order to get Steve away from her. She managed to gasp out, "Don't—"

"Whoa. Hey, careful, doll." Someone caught her wrists. "It's just me, Tilly."

"B-bucky? _Achoo!_ What are you d-doing here?"

She was able to make out his smile through the haze over her eyes. "Taking care of you, sweetheart. What else? Steve's out getting Howard. Let's get you up and moved to the couch at least." A strong arm curled around her waist and helped her up to her feet. "There you go. Have you eaten?"

"Um . . . I don't remember," she mumbled.

He made a clearly displeased sound. "Matilda, you really need to take better care of yourself. There's the couch. Down you go." He helped her sit. "I'll get you some water."

"You, you don't have to—"

"Shush. I'll get you some bread too. It should be nice on your stomach." Bucky brushed her hair from where it was plastered against her face with sweat. "Stay right here."

She slumped back against the cushions, only somewhat able to watch as he moved about the kitchen. "B-bucky," she breathed.

His blurry figure returned and his face was a little clearer now that he was closer. Bucky offered her one of his wide smiles and pressed a glass into her hands. "Here we go. Careful, doll." He supported her hands as she moved. "Not too fast."

She sighed in relief, letting the water soothe her burning throat. "You . . . should be at work," she mumbled.

"I'd rather be here." A hand pressed against her forehead. "You don't think you caught what your mom had, do you?"

"I, I don't think so. But I don't wanna get you sick."

"It's a risk I'm willin' to take."

"But what if it _is_ what she had?"

The hand on her forehead stilled. "Well, then I really do have to help ya get better, right?" he asked, voice strained. "What all hurts?"

"What doesn't?"

"Tilly . . . ."

She did her best to keep her eyes open. "Sorry . . . . My head . . . . And my throat's all raw and I'm tired and I don't remember being this tired before."

"Okay." He brushed her hair back from her face. "I'm going to go get that food for you now, okay? I'm not leaving."

Matilda nodded tiredly. "Okay."

* * *

"And . . . we're open for business!" Howard said, dramatically cutting through the ribbon. "How's it lookin', baby?" he asked, pushing open the door.

They stepped in after him and Matilda looked around. "Well . . . it needs a new coat of paint. And . . . at least one desk. And—"

"You think too much," Bucky said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "This place is _amazing,_ Tilly. Just look at it!"

"It's gonna look better when you fill it with inventions," Steve told her, stepping forward and tilting his head back to look at the tall ceiling.

"Speaking of." She turned to Howard. "How 'bout you get it a little cleaned up and I revise the engine schematics before we order parts?"

Howard made a face. "Sounds like you're giving me the real work, there."

"Nothing you can't handle." Matilda shot him a pleased grin and then turned, leaving the building. "Stevie? Bucky? You comin'?"

They hurried after her and Bucky fell into step with her first. "How about we get some ice cream? To celebrate?"

"Hmm. That sounds like a great idea. Stevie?"

He shook his head, tugging his jacket a little closer. "I'm already cold."

Matilda frowned in worry but didn't press it when he gave her a lot. "Alright, then. Grab 'n' go it is. You wanna wait outside or come in?"

"I'll wait."

Matilda nodded. When they reached the parlor, Bucky held the door open and she went inside. As they stood in line, she bounced on her feet. "Hmm . . . . What should I try this time?"

"Well, you tried pistachio last time. What about butterscotch?"

"Worth a try."

He took out his wallet and, when they reached the counter, he smiled. "Two butterscotch cones, please. One scoop." He handed the money over. A few moments later, they were handed their cones. Bucky held the door for her as they stepped out.

"You know, it'd be helpful if you looked over a few things for me," she murmured. "Just so— Steve!" She dropped the cone, eyes widening. "Hey! Get off my brother, you fucker!" She rushed forward before Bucky could even realize fully what was happening. Her foot slammed into the back of the attacker's knee. Then she slammed her elbow into his spine, following up with a knee to his face. He stumbled backwards, hand flying to his bleeding nose. She nailed his cheekbone with her fist.

He turned tail and scrambled away. Growling, Matilda started after him when an arm caught her around the waist. "Whoa. I think you scared him enough, Tilly."

"Let me go, Bucky!" she said, straining against his grip. "Let me—"

"Check on Steve first."

Those four words took all the fight out of her. The moment she sagged, Bucky pulled back and let her go. Matilda turned to find Steve struggling to his feet. "Stevie," she gasped, framing his face with her hands. She turned his head to the side, studying the scrape across his forehead. "We left you alone for a few minutes. You really can't stay out of trouble for that long?"

He laughed a little. "I guess not." Then he pushed her hands away. "I'm fine. Really."

She stared at him. Then she dragged him forward and hugged him tightly. "God, you're always gettin' in so much trouble."

He hugged her and then pulled back. "I'm okay."

Matilda sighed and hesitated. "Stevie—"

"Hey, Steve's tough," Bucky said, nudging her. "Ice cream?"

She blinked and glanced up to find him offering her a cone. "Wh-what?"

"Well, you dropped yours. I figured you'd want mine."

Matilda took a moment before smiling and taking the cone. "Thanks, Barnes."

"Anytime."

* * *

It wasn't until after the alcohol was poured that he finally spoke up. "Your flight was pleasant?"

"Extremely," Howard said, picking up a glass and leaning back. "Of course, that's easier to guarantee when you have your own plane. And it helps that Rogers is a more than adequate pilot." He glanced to the side at where she was sitting to his left.

Matilda glanced towards him and nodded, not smiling but instead picking up her own drink. "We hit a bit of turbulence, but it was a nice way to do a live test run of our stabilization wings."

"You designed the wings?" the general asked curiously.

"We designed the entire aircraft," Matilda said with a nod. "The wings were a recent update—a welcome addition after a little trouble in the air over Ireland two months back. But that's what I'm best at: identifying a problem, assessing it, creating a solution, and implementing it."

"Ah, I sense your pitch coming," the general said, leaning back into his seat. "Tell me, Stark. Rogers is your spokeswoman?"

 _"_ _Rogers,"_ Matilda said, stressing her name, "is an equal partner and inventor within Stark Industries. The company may have his name, but I assure you that only half of it is him. Would you like to discuss product, General?"

He watched her for a moment before smiling tightly and lifting his glass. "This is fine whiskey. Do you know how they make it, Rogers?" He didn't wait for an answer, pressing on. "They aged this particular bottle in a cask for thirteen years until it was perfect. Until it was . . . worth its value." He took a sip and a satisfied expression touched his eyes. "Whiskey is much like relationships, I think. Our current contract has been with the same people for two decades now. Why would we abandon that in order to secure vehicles from an unknown variable?"

Matilda took a draught of whiskey to steel her nerves, focusing on not letting any anxiety show. "Are you fond of mathematics, General?"

"Hmm. I can't say I am."

"Then let me put this in straightforward terms. _Variable_ is a common term in mathematics, referring to a symbol that has a determined amount of worth. The concept of an _unknown variable_ exists in every form of mathematics, long before someone is even aware, perhaps, of the inner workings of high levels of arithmetic. Most forms of mathematics can been drawn back to what I suppose you could call the greats: the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Chinese. But they tended to work in more kinesthetic manners of mathematics. The idea of an unknown variable can been traced back to the Babylonians. They were the first masters of these types of equations, where everything could be cleanly written out with a beginning and an end just like it was intended." She paused to take another drink.

"Is there a reason for this story, Rogers?"

She smiled tightly, though she wasn't sure it could be considered a smile so much as an expression of tested patience. "You see, the Babylonians loved the idea of _value,_ although they tended to apply it to things other than the relationships that you speak about. One thing they applied this value to was these unknown variables: symbols that were just waiting for their true worth to be discovered. In an algebraic equation, you have to isolate this symbol to one side so that you can see what it equals. And in this way, the end goal is determining that worth. Once said worth is determined, it can be used to solve countless other equations that, until then, were simply unsolvable. You might compare our situation to liquor; I prefer to compare it to the purity of numbers, because that's what all this comes down to in the end, isn't it?"

"You're comparing Stark Industries to these unknown variables?"

"I'm comparing Stark Industries to the value of those unknown variables and the doors they can open." She set her glass down and then reached for the bag at her feet. The latch clicked open. Matilda withdrew a folder and set it on the desk. As she flipped open the file, she said, "Archimedes once had one of the world's most incredible scientific realizations while in the bath. This theory of displacement, of buoyancy, has since filtered into our everyday lives. Your ships, for example. Or even yourself, if you're a man who finds himself partial to a good swim every now and then." She selected a tank blueprint and spread out the pages for him to see. "When Archimedes discovered this, he coined the term _eureka._ Of course, he coined it while streaking naked through the streets of Syracuse, but that detail is negligible. The word _eureka_ comes from an ancient Greek word: εὕρηκα."

She cleared her throat, sitting back with her whiskey and taking another sip. "This word means _I found it._ It's used often within the scientific community today, usually when someone makes a groundbreaking discovery that will benefit the scientific collective for years to come, if not decades. Or even millennia, in Archimedes' case. The snippets of time in which these priceless discoveries are made are termed _eureka moments."_

The general frowned, looking over the pages before him. "And your point?"

"It's not so much a point as it is a question."

"And that question is?"

And this time, her smile really was a smile. "Are you ready to have your own eureka moment, General Montgomery?"

* * *

"Oh, thank you, Jarvis," Matilda murmured, taking the tea he offered. "You're a pilot, correct?"

He nodded politely. "I am, Doctor Rogers."

Matilda glanced up, surprise tinging her words. "Doctor?"

"You secured a doctorate, did you not?"

She smiled. "I did. But I do think you're the first to acknowledge that." She cleared her throat and held out a stack of papers to him "Would you mind looking through this? Your input of what the general is looking for in his aircrafts would be invaluable."

"Ah." He took the papers and moved to sit down on the other side of the table. "I'm happy to provide my services, Doctor."

She sipped at her tea and twirled her pen between her fingers as she refocused in on the contract. She was just about to mark out a line when an envelope was tossed in her way. "Mail," Howard announced. "I didn't realize you and the boys had agreed to write each other. We're only gone two and a half weeks."

Matilda frowned, setting down her pen. "We didn't agree to that. Do you think—"

"I'm sure Steve's fine. You're such a worrier."

She shot him a look and shook her head. Then she slipped her finger under the flap and tore the envelope open. The carefully folded letter fell out and she flattened it on the tabletop.

 _Tilly,_

 _Did I do something to upset you? If so, I hope you forgive me, because if you were trying to punish me by leaving me alone with Steve for this long then it's worked. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Please just get him to stop. I've had to break him out of nine fights since you left and it's barely been a week._

"Is it Steve?"

She looked up. "Hmm? Oh, no. It's Bucky. Complaining about Steve, mostly."

"Let me guess. Fights?" Howard sat down and spread out his blueprints to work on. He didn't pay much attention to her nodding and instead reached for her tea. "This yours? Great." He took it and took a long drink.

Matilda blinked. "I was drinking that."

"I'll get you more," Jarvis sand, rising to his feet. "Anything else I can get you while I'm at it?"

"No, thank you, Jarvis."

"Yeah, if I could get something to eat here?" Howard said. "I'm starving."

Matilda sighed. "We just ate a half hour ago."

"And now it's been thirty minutes since then. I need food if you want this brain to work."

"Has it ever really worked?" she muttered doubtfully. With a shake of her head, she returned her attention to Bucky's letter.

* * *

"So, are we going to talk about how batty it is that Matilda owns her own plane?"

"Well, technically she only owns half of it and Howard owns the other half." Steve shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "But he said that's just until the second one is finished." He sat down in the chair and picked up the framed picture on the desk: Matilda and Steve celebrating the day he'd gotten into art school. "She already owns a company. This office. This entire building, really. Plus, they bought that hangar for a reason; it would be pointless if they didn't have planes to put in it."

Bucky took the picture from him and studied it. "Your life is nuts, now. Ya know that, right?"

"Juno and I went out to eat before she left," Steve said, sitting back and kicking off with his feet so he could spin in the chair. "And it was _expensive._ As in, just our dinner could've paid for a month of food back when we were younger."

"You got damn lucky having her as a sister, ya know." Bucky carefully put the picture back down on the desk. "It's gotten better, but most people nowadays are still struggling just getting bread on the table."

"Yeah." Steve frowned, stopping spinning. "She works too much. You see how stressed she is, right?"

Bucky practically flinched. "Yeah. I see it, pal."

The doorknob twisted and they both straightened. The door opened to let Howard and Matilda inside, the former rambling about something while the latter continually shook her head. Some of the exhaustion on her face lifted when she saw them. "Ah, the two people I missed most in the world."

"Hey," Howard said, frowning.

"You were with me and don't count," she said, shooting him a look. Matilda moved forward and stepped eagerly into Bucky's waiting arms. "I missed you two," she said, rising on her toes and tugging him down so she could kiss his forehead. She drew back and turned to Steve, who had stood and was coming around the desk. "Have you two had fun without me?"

"Hardly. Buck's been nagging me all the time."

"Well, he didn't have me to pick on instead," she mused, kissing Steve's cheek. "I'm back now, so you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"I'm not that bad," Bucky muttered. "How'd it go?"

Howard grinned. "She was _amazing._ Stark Industries is now in contract with the British Armed Forces and we've both got a lot more money to put in our pockets."

"It's not about the money," Matilda said easily. A smirk tugged at her lips. "Though I won't complain about that." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I have some work to do to tie up loose ends from the trip." She stepped around the desk and sat her briefcase on top.

Steve hesitated. "Juno—"

"Why don't we go out for some drinks?" Howard said, throwing one arm around Steve and the other around Bucky. "Pick up some skirts. Maybe even a bearcat or two with low standards?"

Matilda groaned. "Howie, no. You're disgusting."

Howard laughed and Bucky shrugged him off. "I'll stay here. You two go have fun."

"Really?" Stark laughed. "Well, okay, then. C'mon, Steve. We brought back some candy that you absolutely have to try." He steered Steve from the office and the door closed behind them.

Bucky turned to find that Matilda was already focused on her work. He pulled around one of the guest chairs so he was sitting closer to her. "Anything I can help with?"

"Hmm?" She looked up. "Oh, uh, yes, actually. That would be amazing." She dug through her bag and came up with a file. "Howard and I are presenting at the World's Fair."

"Really?" he asked in awe, taking the folder. "That's amazing."

"Yeah, well, I've been working on my presentation. If you could just . . . ."

"Of course."

"And, uh . . . ." She shook her head and refocused.

"And what?" Bucky asked, leaning an elbow on the desk and frowning. "Something else you need?"

"Um . . . coffee?" she asked bashfully.

He grinned and set the file down as he got to his feet. "Coming right up, doll."

* * *

"The parts for the Jitterbug came in," Howard said, pushing into her office. "If you're ready, we— Wow. Alcohol this early in the morning?"

Matilda looked up at him, frowning before staring down at the glass in her hands. "It's Baileys." She leaned forward and pushed the bottle towards him. "Have some. You're going to need it."

"Oh?" He pulled up a guest chair and started pouring himself a glass. "Why's that?"

She picked the newspaper up from her lap and tossed it on the desk so it could face him. Howard leaned forward and read the bold headline.

 _GERMAN ARMY ATTACKS POLAND; CITIES BOMBED, PORT BLOCKADED; DANZIG IS ACCEPTED INTO REICH_


	10. Chapter 9 - It Takes Two

I give you the tenth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Nine - It Takes Two

"Prefer the shadows?" Matilda asked. She smiled when the other woman jumped in surprise and held up her hands. "Sorry, I forget that sometimes people don't hear me coming. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't."

She paused at the sharp tone. "Oh. My mistake, then." She took a moment to study the woman's appearance. "Cully, correct? Isodyne Energy?"

"It's my husband's," the woman corrected. "You've heard of him? Calvin Chadwick?"

"He's the face, maybe," Matilda agreed, turning a little so she could watch the stage. "See, at least at my company, the face is also half the brain. I'm sorry that it's not like that for yours."

Cully straightened. "You're Rogers."

"Matilda, please. It's nice to meet another female mind, Cully."

That managed to get a smile from her and she held out her hand. "Agnes."

"Matilda! We're going to be late! Are you coming?"

"Late?" She glanced at the clock and then over her shoulder at where Howard was approaching from. "We'd be early still if we left now."

"I forgot his gift, so we have to stop by the hotel. We goin'?"

"You forgot—" She sighed. "Of course you did. The one thing you were in charge of today." She smiled back at Cully. "It was nice to meet you, Agnes." With a wave, she turned and grabbed Howard's elbow before marching him away. "You didn't forget anything when you were packing for this trip, were you?" she hissed. "You didn't forget any sort of scripts or, I don't know, metals?"

"See, this is why I didn't tell you when I realized earlier. I forget one little thing at the hotel and you get all bent. Gimme the keys."

"No. I'm driving." She dug said keys out of the pocket and threw open the door into the outside air.

"You're joking. You drive mad like this and you'll crash the goddamn car."

"Get in," she said with a sigh, opening the door and sliding into the convertible. "The car's bulletproof. I'm sure it could stand up to any scratches I might give it when I'm angry at you, which is quite a lot, might I add."

"Well, you're easy," he said, jumping into the passenger seat without opening the door. "You know, if ya don't get a handle on that temper, the wrong person is going trip it someday."

"Hmm, if only. Might give me an excuse to vent a little. Physically. With my hands."

He whistled. "Goddamn, you're scary. Turn left up here. You know that angry person who came in the office the other day? Threatened us? I bet you could've taken her out no problem."

"She was an eighty-year-old woman, Howie. She got us confused with the dry-cleaners across the street."

"Still. I've been thinking of getting bodyguards, but with you around— Left! I said left!"

Matilda swore and turned the wheel sharply. Another car swerved to avoid them, honking loudly, and she took a moment to readjust after they hit the curb. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. My bad. And bodyguards, Howie? Really? We make weapons and it's not like we don't know how to use them."

"You might be comfortable with that little .45 under your skirt, but I'd feel a hell of a lot more comfortable with a little more."

"How do you know about what's up my skirt?" she asked, shooting him a look.

He held up his hands in defense, grinning. "You underestimate me, Rogers. You think I wouldn't know when you're heavy?"

"Hmm. Well, you missed my .25 cal. And the six inch blade."

"Six inch— What the hell? Since when—"

"Here we are," she announced stopping jerkily. "If we're late 'cause you don't wanna run for fear of sweating—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Howard jumped out of the car and dashed into the hotel.

She tapped her fingers on the wheel impatiently, glancing to the side. After a couple minutes, she honked the horn. The front doors flew open. "I wasn't even gone that long!" Howard yelled, taking the steps two at a time. He clutched the gift bag to his chest and got back in the car. "If you're so concerned about being late, then step on it."

"Gladly."

The moment they took off far too fast down the street, Howard let out a whoop and yelled something about this being the reason they got along so well. Matilda ignored him, grinning as she turned one sharp corner after another. Then they came to a screeching halt in front of Perino's. As they got out, she tossed the keys to the valet. He fumbled with them and scratched something out in his books before hurriedly handing her a ticket. Matilda took it and put it in her pocket before putting her hand around Howard's elbow. "Shall we?"

"You're just excited to see someone other than me, aren't you?" he asked with a laugh, leading the way inside.

"That's not it at all. You've got the gift?"

"I see where Barnes gets the nagging from."

"What the hell is that supposed to me—"

"About time!" a voice interrupted loudly, cutting across all the talk in the restaurant. A figure at a booth table stood up, spreading his arm. "I hope you don't mind that I ordered for ya both. Food just got here; nice and warm."

"Joe!" Matilda grinned and pull forward from Howard. She reached him first and threw her arms around him. "It's so good to see you!"

"You're looking well." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks. "And you've managed to avoid killing Stark, so I'm guessing you've gotten that fiery attitude under control?"

"Guess again," Howard said with a laugh as he reached them. "She's as short-tempered as ever. It's good to see you, Manfredi."

Joseph shifted so that he had one arm around Matilda but could still clasp Howard's hand with the others. "You two punks really made something of yourselves. DeeDee here even went and found herself some proper glad rags."

"I know how to dress up when it's called for," Matilda said, smiling. "And you just happen to be worth it."

He laughed. "That's sweet, doll." He stepped aside and gestured them forward. Howard and Matilda slid into the booth across from each other and he sat next to Matilda. He waved to the men in suits that stood nearby—three of them—and they turned their backs so they faced out at the rest of the room with their hands folded behind them.

Matilda eyed them for a second and then did an odd little half-laugh, half-sigh. "Seems like you went another route but did well for yourself all the same."

He smirked. "Absolutely. You didn't go soft over the years, did ya?"

Howard scoffed. "As if. Her? Never." He set the bag on the table. "We brought something for ya."

One of the men stiffened and turned, but Joseph waved him off with his hand. "Naw, these are old friends of mine, Clifford. Lemme see here." He pulled the bag across the table and reached in, pulling out the bottle.

"Goldschläger," Matilda said, smiling. "107 proof. Good for a bad day." She titled her head to the side. "Or an incredible one."

Joseph grinned at her. "God, I missed you."

* * *

"Howard, wrong one."

"Wha— Right. My bad." He put the shield down and took the one she was holding. "That would've been bad."

"It would've been funny." When he gave her a look, Matilda grinned. "But bad. You're right. Go ahead, Howie." She stepped aside and let him out onstage.

"Ciro's is the playground for Hollywood's brightest stars!" Howard said loudly, all the bravado in him coming alive the moment he was before the crowd.

"Rogers?"

Matilda's fingers itched for a moment at the unfamiliar voice and she smoothed her hands over her skirt, turning. "Yes? Can I help you?" she asked, studying the man in uniform before her.

"Colonel Chester Phillips," he said succinctly.

"Ah. Sir, Stark Industries has already made our position on your request for a contract with the SSR clear. Given that the majority of the company's work is done strictly by myself and Stark, it would not be possible nor practical—"

"If I could, Rogers, I have footage that I'd like to show Stark and yourself. It just might change your minds."

Matilda glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Donna shoot at the vibranium shield Howard was holding up, the act followed by loud applause from the crowd. Then she sighed. "I suppose we can spare a little time to watch a film. You have the reel?"

"I do."

"Good. There's a projector in the building I'm sure we can use. Though I'm going to be honest when I say Howard isn't the one you have to convince."

"I know."

As the clapping started again, Matilda glanced to the side. "Howie," she murmured when he started past her, one arm around Donna's waist and a grin on his face. "Colonel Phillips would like a word with us."

"A word?" Howard asked, stopping short.

"He has footage for us to watch."

"Huh. Alright, run along, Donna. I might catch up with you later." He kissed her neck and then pushed her along. "You know, Colonel, if you want me to invest in a movie, you should just _ask._ We don't need to waste time watching dailies."

Matilda rolled her eyes and led the way back through the halls. Phillips spoke up. "The footage you're about to see was just smuggled out of Nazi Germany by Agent 13, an undercover operative the Brits have planted deep within Hydra, Hitler's advanced weapons program."

"Ooh, the competition," Howard said, only to grunt when Matilda elbowed him. She opened the door to the room with the projector and Howard asked, "You gotta reel?"

Phillips withdrew the reel and handed it off to Matilda for her to set it up. As it readied, he spoke. "A few years back, a rebel-held town in fascist Spain, Guernica, was destroyed with the help of Generalissimo Franco's Nazi Allies. At the time, it was believed their air force—the Luftwaffe—was to blame. As you are about to see . . . we now know better."

"Is there a cartoon beforehand? I'd like to go into the lobby and—"

"Howard," Matilda growled. "This is serious."

That shut him up.

Then the footage began. Matilda's heart jumped as the tank crashed through the wall, the echoing blast staticky on the old film. Fire shot from the gun on top of the tank and Howard flinched, hand grabbing her elbow. "Do you see—"

"Yes," she said hoarsely. "Stop that. This isn't— Oh, g-god." She broke off, staring at the giant exoskeleton soldier ripping apart people on screen. Something chilly turned over in her stomach.

Then it stopped.

"That's . . . that's it?" she asked, glancing at Phillips.

"What, you want to watch more of that?" he asked, retrieving the reel.

She swallowed. "No, not particularly. So . . . why do you want to talk to us?"

"You turned down the SSR's request for your help before. I'd like to change your mind."

She stared at him evenly. He stared back.

Howard cleared his throat. "Maybe . . . maybe we should take a ride."

* * *

"We're not at war with Germany," Howard said over the roar of the wind, taking the curve sharply.

"The general consensus in the White House and the war department is that that is a temporary condition," Phillips said, glancing from Howard back at where Matilda was sitting in the backseat, frowning as she looked through the documents he'd given her. "The Third Reich represents the greatest threat to liberty and justice the world has ever seen."

"Hydra had some decent horrors in the thirties. Against the Spanish rebels," Matilda nodded, looking up from the papers for the first time in a long while. "If they had those toys then . . . ."

"God only knows what horrors they've cooked up now," Phillips said. "Exactly. That's why President Roosevelt has authorized the SSR. Howard, he asked for you personally."

Matilda frowned a little at that but knew not to take the slight too personally. Howard was the one that liked to schmooze with the populous. It was her own fault for preferring to stay away from the cameras. "Stark Industries is a company. A manufacture. We aren't an army branch."

"It's a good thing we're not asking for all of Stark Industries, then."

"You just want Howard."

"Well . . . . Him and yourself, Rogers."

"Sounds like you're starting a crusade," Howard cut in. "What you need are crusaders. And the costume doesn't quite fit me—"

His words were interrupted by the roar of a police siren. Matilda glanced back, shutting the file in her hands and setting it aside. "Goddammit, Howie," she muttered.

"Pull over!" the police yelled.

Howard made a sharp _tch_ sound. "Look at me. I can't even stay out of trouble for an hour at a time. Though I _am_ going thirty over."

"Just stop the car," Matilda sighed.

Phillips shook his head sharply and leaned over. "Don't stop!"

The car jerked forward, accelerating dramatically. Matilda grabbed the seat beside her for stability. "What the hell!"

"Hail Hydra!"

And then her thoughts were drowned out by gunfire. Matilda ducked down into the back seat, reaching for the gun hidden beneath her skirt. She drew the colt out and chambered a round, steadying herself as Howard served recklessly. He was shouting something to Phillips but she couldn't hear him over the gunfire. Phillips turned around and shot. There was a cry and a brief pause in the shooting. Matilda took that chance and sat back up, taking aim. The man in the back seat of the other car was leaning out of the window, getting ready with his own gun. Matilda squeezed the trigger twice. She wasn't sure which one hit, but all that mattered was one did.

Howard was shouting orders of some kind to Phillips now. Matilda aimed for the driver, but he swerved his car and accelerated faster then them. When he glanced to the side, he lifted his own gun.

 _Bang!_

She'd never felt pain like that before. If she was being honest with herself, it probably had something to do with the fact that she'd never been shot before. Matilda slapped her hand up over her right shoulder, her grip loosening involuntarily on her gun. Her head hit something hard when she fell back and her vision spun while her pain sang.

The car rumbled in a familiar way and she recognized it from her hours of testing the mechanism over and over with Howard. Then she heard the combustion. And the following explosion. The car swerved harshly and jerked to a stop, making Matilda bite out a cry of pain.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Matilda, hey, look at me! Hey—"

"Rogers, keep pressure on that! Stark, take us back in and to the hospital! I'll send someone else to come clean this up."

"But what—"

"A-anytime now," Matilda gasped out, screwing her eyes shut. When had everything gotten so white and so loud and god, couldn't someone stop that ringing?

"Go, Stark!"

The car roared to life again and Howard swung back around in the direction they'd come from. Phillips climbed into the back seat and pulled out his handkerchief. "Here." He lifted her hand and put the cloth over the wound before pressing her hand back down. "Keep that pressure." He moved his hand and her fingers lifted a little. "Rogers, don't— Rogers? Rogers, stay with us. Rogers!"

* * *

She stared at the blank ceiling for a long time before finally convincing herself to look elsewhere. There was an IV in her arm and it itched terribly. She distracted herself by looking to her right. A curtain cut her off from where she assumed the door was. She looked to the left. Howard was sitting in a chair by the window. His notebook sat open in his lap, but he was staring through the glass as he twirled the pen in his hand. Matilda stared down at the clipboard sitting on the bed by her feet. Frowning, she craned her neck only to stop when that shot pain through her muscles. She flinched and squinted to get a good look.

"Virginia Anderson?" she croaked.

Howard jumped, the notebook in his lap tumbling to the floor. He stared at her hollowly and she realized just how pale he was. He swallowed visibly. "Um, yeah. Didn't want the word to get out about the better half of Stark Industries getting shot. Besides, can you imagine what Steve and Barnes would do to me if they had to read in the paper that you got hurt?"

She laughed weakly, only to almost immediately regret it. "I can only imagine." After a moment, she murmured, "The better half?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." He cleared his throat and picked up the notebook. "I told Phillips that I'm in."

"Oh?" Matilda stared up at the ceiling, mulling that over. Then she whispered, "I am too."

"What, getting shot change your mind?"

"I changed my mind when I saw the film, Howie. We can do something about Hydra. So shouldn't we?"

He shrugged and moved to stand beside her. "How do you feel?"

That got a groan out of her. "Like shit."

"Yeah, well, you look the part too. You've been out a day."

"A—"

"Well, you woke up a little while ago but you weren't lucid. They said that was the anesthetic wearing off. They had to put you under for surgery." He brushed a hand against his right shoulder. "They had to get the bullet out and fix everything it damaged—muscle, tendon, bone—"

"Yeah, I get the idea." She screwed her eyes shut. "What now?"

"You'll be in a sling for three weeks, minimum, they said. Something about you being lucky and how it could have been worse."

"Shit. Stevie's probably freaking out."

"He doesn't know yet."

"I know. But we've been here a day? We were supposed to go back in the morning."

"So we'll be late. Oh well." Howard shoved his hands in his pockets. "Phillips says there's paperwork we have to fill out once we're back in New York."

"Good. We'll schedule that once we're back. When can I get out of here?"

"Matilda—"

"Howie. I want out of here."

His jaw tightened and then he nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"You've been quiet," she commented. "Lacking your usual chatter."

"Hmm."

She stared out the window at Brooklyn's familiar buildings as they drove by. "Something wrong?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"You got shot in front of me. I _think_ that entitles me to an off day."

She held up a hand—her left one—and arched her eyebrows. "Touchy. My bad." Matilda shifted in her seat and hissed in pain when it jostled her shoulder against the car door.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

He made an odd noise and pulled to a stop next to the apartment building. "You know you don't have to stay here."

"The fancy mansion is your thing, Howie. This is where Stevie and I grew up." She undid her seatbelt. "I don't want to leave that."

"Right." He stopped the engine. "Don't move. I'll get you out."

"Not a baby," she muttered. But nevertheless, she waited. Howard opened her door and took her left hand, helping her out. "Think Steve's home?"

"Hope not. I don't want to help explain this."

"I've got that covered. Quit holding me. I can walk myself." She pushed past him and jogged up the stairs, wincing at the way it jerked her shoulder in its sling. But she hid that, not wanting to give him any more reason to coddle her. When they reached the door, she began awkwardly digging in her pockets for her keys. "I coulda sworn I—"

Howard sighed and leaned in, knocking loudly. "Hey, Steve! Let us in!"

There was a loud thump from inside and then the door was thrown open. Steve stood there, eyes wide and chest heaving. "Juno." His gaze dropped to her sling and he paled. "What—"

"So an interesting thing happened while we were in California," she started weakly, voice breaking just a touch.

"Tilly, what the hell happened?"

She jerked in surprise, looking past Steve to find Bucky sitting at the table. He got to his feet, brow creased in concern. "Bucky, I . . . . Um . . . ." She cleared her throat. "Turns out that weapons manufacturing can really make ya some enemies. It's not too bad. A few weeks in a sling and it'll be all healed up." She attempted a smile and a joke that fell flat. "They wouldn't let me keep the bullet."

"Oh my god," Steve breathed, lurching forward. His arms wrapped around her. "Juno, that—"

"Shit!" She jerked backwards and a pained hiss built up in her throat. "Sorry, that just— Shit. Watch the arm."

Bucky reached out and took Steve by the shoulder, pulling him back. "Careful," he murmured, though Matilda wasn't sure if he was saying it to Steve or to her. "Ya know, when you didn't come back yesterday, Steve got paranoid."

"Just Steve?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"I knew you could take care of yourself." But his expression was doubtful and he wouldn't stop staring at her sling.

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

Her smile faltered just a touch and she met his gaze. "Okay."

* * *

Bucky knocked softly and waited. "Come in," she called. He pushed his way into the office and Matilda looked up from where she was sitting at her desk. "Bucky?"

"Hey, doll. You weren't out dancing with us."

"Can't exactly dance with this," she said, frowning down at her sling.

"That's not true." He sighed. "Anyway, Howard mentioned you've been really caught up in your work. And knowing you, I guessed that meant you hadn't eaten, so." He held up the plate of pastries he was carrying and then set it down on her desk.

"Thank you." She sat back and picked up one of the eclairs.

"What's got ya workin' so late?" he asked, leaning against the desk and reaching out for one of the papers. She dropped her pastry and smacked his hand away. He pulled back in surprise.

"Sorry," she murmured. "Government contract stuff. Supposed to be a secret." Once he nodded and pulled back, she cleared her throat and picked her eclair back up. "We've got a lot going on. And my part is taking longer than normal since, well . . . ." She scowled down at her arm. "I can't exactly write easily with this."

"What's this I'm hearing?" he asked. When she looked at him curiously, he grinned. "There's something you can't do?"

That dragged a laugh out of her and she muffled it with her food, rolling her eyes. After she polished the eclair off and licked her fingers, she leaned back again. "How was dancing?"

"Good, as always. You shoulda come."

"Like I said, I can't dance with—"

"That's ridiculous. Here." He pushed off from the desk and came around it so he was standing next to her. He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

She stared up at him and then sighed. "Bucky—"

"C'mon. What? Don't trust me?"

She eyed him. "Don't pull that." She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

He pulled her out past the desk into the open area of her office. "It's just like normal," he murmured, moving his hand from hers in order to curl it up her back. His steps were slow and gentle and she followed easily, familiarly. "Just . . . minus a hand. Right?"

She smiled faintly. "Right. But there's no music either, genius."

"Hmm, you're right about that. Do you need it?"

Matilda stared up at him. Then she smiled and leaned her head forward against his shoulder. "No," she whispered. "Guess I don't."


	11. Chapter 10 - Torches

I give you the eleventh installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Ten - Torches

"You're Agent 13?"

The woman smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, and she held out a hand. "Yes. I go by Carter, though. Peggy Carter."

Matilda smiled and shook her hand, pretending for all the world like it didn't twinge her shoulder wrong. "It's nice to finally meet you, Carter. I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise. Your tech has saved me more than once in the field."

"Carter will be providing the basic training you requested, Rogers," Phillips said. "In hopes of avoiding a repeat of LA."

"Yeah, that'd be preferable." Matilda's gaze shifted to the man behind Peggy who was fiddling with his spectacles. "Doctor Erskine, correct?"

"Ah, well, yes."

"It's good to see you again," Howard said, grinning. "It's been a while since Geneva."

"It has been," Erskine acknowledged with a nervous nod of his head.

"I wasn't in Geneva," Matilda said, smiling. "But I've heard of your work. Schön dich zu treffen, Herr Erskine."

"Ah, you know German?" He hesitated. "Ah . . . ."

"Rogers. Matilda Rogers." When he started to apologize, she shook her head. "It's understandable. People tend to recognize Howard, whether by face or name . . . or reputation. They often don't recognize me and that's just how I like it." She cleared her throat. "Now, Howard and I would appreciate it if you could go over what you need from us in terms of this . . . chamber."

* * *

"Jarvis? Are you sure?" Matilda frowned and her shoulders fell. "That's awful. I was fond of him."

 _"_ _Was?"_ Howard scoffed. "You can do better than that," he hissed.

"And what do you expect from me, Howard?"

He worked his jaw. Then he shoved past her for the door. "I'm taking care of this."

She turned. "Howard—"

"Is there a problem, fräuline?"

Matilda sighed and then turned to Erskine with a smile. "Just . . . a little worry over a friend, Doctor. Nothing for me to bother you with."

"Nonsense, my dear," he said, smiling and adjusting his glasses. "What is it?"

She hesitated and then shook her head, returning to tightening the bolts on the control panel. "Have you ever felt like . . . there's more you should be doing? To help? Not even necessarily the war, but just in . . . general? Regardless of what you're already doing, you feel like it's not enough?"

"Ah, that is a feeling I am familiar with." He finally did take off his glasses, folding them up and putting them in his pocket. "You feel like you should be doing more, Rogers?"

She finished with the bolts and looked up. "Matilda."

"Ah. Matilda."

She tilted her head back to studying the ceiling as she thought. "What if you're afraid of doing more because you're afraid you might do it for the wrong reasons?"

"I think that is an appropriate reason to fear. And it makes you more conscious about your own self and morality than most."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. It is most definitely not. While it may be a struggle to come to terms with, your own self-awareness is something to be proud of."

Matilda set her wrench in her toolbox and closed it before pulling on her braid. "I should go," she murmured. "I don't want to be late."

"Certainly. I will see you tomorrow, Matilda."

She jogged up the stairs and paused at the top, looking back with a faint smile. "Thank you, Abraham." Then she pushed her way through the door and walked through the hallway. When she came out into the main shop, she smiled at the woman behind the desk. "Enjoying your donuts, Mary?"

"Very much so. Thank you."

"Did Howard take the car?"

Mary smiled tightly. "Yes, he did."

Matilda sighed. "Right. Okay, then. I guess I'm walking." She waved and moved to the door. "Thank you."

It was a pleasant walk, despite the way it started to sprinkle a little halfway through. She wasn't exactly upset to escape into the building. "Betty, have you seen Howard?"

The receptionist looked up in surprise. "Ah, I'm afraid not, Miss Rogers. In fact," —she shifted her papers aside to look at the calendar on her desk— "he's going to be late for his two o'clock meeting with Duncan and Dotter about the new facility. And then at three fifteen he's supposed to speak with George Harvey. And then at four—"

"Alright, I get the idea." Matilda sighed. "Give me the files on those meetings. When they arrive, inform them that they'll be speaking with me."

Better smiled, opening the file cabinet next to her desk to do as she'd been asked. "Going for the intimidation factor today, Miss Rogers?"

"It's the truth," Matilda said, taking the folders. "If that's intimidating, I won't complain." She turned to leave but then stopped, glancing back. "If it's not too much trouble, could I get some coffee?"

"Of course, Miss Rogers."

"Thank you."

* * *

They were laughing loudly when they came into the apartment and she didn't look up from her papers where she was sitting at the table. "How was the game?"

"Amazing," Steve said, the grin in his voice obvious even though she wasn't looking at him. "The Dodgers really did 'em in."

She scratched out one line in the press release and wrote her alternative above it. "That's nice," she murmured.

A hand touched her shoulder. "What's this?"

Matilda jumped and looked up in alarm to find Bucky standing next to her, studying her work. "Oh, um. Announcement about the new SI facility."

"Ah. Ya know, you shoulda come with us. You'da had fun."

"I had plenty of fun here."

"Yeah?" He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. "With all this work? I doubt Howard works this much."

"Howard left three days ago for Europe impulsively and left everything here for me to take care of. So no, he's probably not working this much right now." Matilda wrinkled her nose and capped her pen. "Besides, you two had plenty of fun without me."

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" Steve asked, getting out some bread to make himself a sandwich.

She glanced at the clock and hesitated. Bucky frowned. "Did you eat lunch?" When she glanced guiltily at him, he murmured, "Breakfast?"

"I was, uh, distracted."

"Distracted," he repeated hollowly. "She'll have some food, Steve. Tilly, you've gotta take care of yourself."

She set down her pen and frowned deeply. "I take care of myself just fine." As she got to her feet, she rolled her should and reached for it for just a moment before pulling away.

"It hurtin' again?"

"I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, putting hands on her shoulders and guiding her back to her seat. Then he began gently, carefully, working out some of the soreness in her shoulder with his hands. "Ya know, there's nothing wrong with admitting you need help sometimes. Or that not everything is great."

"Everything is fine."

"That's what I'm talking about."

"I'm _fine,_ Barnes."

He paused his hands on her shoulder and sighed. "It's okay if you're not."

Her gaze flicked to where Steve was focusing on making the food and then she glanced back at Bucky. She whispered, "I know."

* * *

"Shit, there's Matilda."

Edwin glanced at him in concern. "Is that a problem, sir?"

"Hopefully not. But I, uh, might've just grabbed the plane and run off instead of explaining the situation to her. I left her with a lot of work to do on her own." Howard sighed and undid his buckles before getting to his feet, stretching. "We can just throw Ana at her. She can easily defuse any of Matilda's potential anger, can't you?"

Ana smiled sweetly. "I don't know, Mister Stark. It sounds like you might deserve whatever she brings your way." Her words were a little shaky.

Howard sighed. "Right. Here goes nothing." He moved to open the door. "Oh, and Ana, I should warn you that Matilda likes her hugs."

Ana's smile just broadened. "Excellent. Don't you think so, Edwin?"

Edwin looked at her, expression practically glowing. "Oh, of course, my dear."

Howard threw open the door and grinned widely as he moved down the stairs. "Matilda! You wouldn't believe who I ran into!"

"Oh, I bet I will, Stark," Matilda said, jaw set and arms crossed. "You could have at least deigned to have a proper conversation with me about this before running off."

Her voice was sharp enough to make him flinch. "I—"

"Jarvis," Matilda interrupted, voice warming immediately. "It's good to see you, despite the circumstances. And this must the lovely Ana. I remember you mentioning her, though I think you undersold her beauty." She stepped forward and held out her arms. "Do you mind? He spoke about you so much that I feel I know you already."

"Oh, of course not!" Ana said, giggling. "Edwin has mentioned a lot about you, Doctor!" She stepped forward into Matilda's arms and sighed as she hugged her. "He admires your tenacity."

"That's sweet. Jarvis," she said, turning to him. "You're looking well, considering."

"Ana's presence does wonders," he said simply smiling and giving in easily to her hug.

As she drew back, she turned her attention to Howard again and her expression stiffened. "So? What now?"

"Well, Jarvis needed a role here, so he's now my butler."

"Your—" She caught herself with a sigh. "Okay, then. That frees up some time for you and you're going to need it because you have a week's worth of work waiting on your desk. I've done what I can, but we're _partners_ in this, Howie."

He flinched again. "I know. I'm sorry."

She worked her jaw and watched him. Then she nodded. "You and I have a meeting with the comptroller in twenty, so I suggest you read through the pre-meeting information on your desk."

* * *

"No! Absolutely not!"

"You don't get to decide this for me, Juno. You're not Ma!"

She flinched back and her expression curled. "I know that, but I did promise her that I'd always take care of you. How am I supposed to do that if you have this suicidal idea of running into danger that you have no chance surviving?"

"It's the right thing to do!"

"Is it? Just why do you want to do this, Steve? To prove something to yourself?"

"Why?" He snatched up the newspaper from the table and shoved it at her, forcing her to look at the bold headline reporting the attack. "Because of this! Because there are terrible things happening and I want to help stop it!"

She ripped the newspaper out of his hands. "You would die!"

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do!"

He stared at her, working his jaw. Then with a huff, he grabbed his jacket and turned for the door. "I'm gonna clear my head," he muttered. He threw the door open to reveal the man that stood there, hand raised to knock. Steve frowned. "Good luck. She's bent today." Then he shoved past Bucky and marched down the stairs.

Bucky glanced back and then shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned towards her. "He told you that he wanted to enlist, didn't he?"

She looked up at him sharply and then turned away, putting the newspaper in her briefcase. "Last I checked, you didn't live here, Barnes. Why are you here so much? Don't you have your own place?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging and stepping inside. He closed the door. "But it's pretty empty most of the time. Do you want coffee?"

Matilda jerked her gaze to him, frowning. "Coffee? Why?"

"You're stressed. You like coffee when you're stressed."

She worked her jaw, thinking of that. Then she nodded. "That would be nice. But don't think I can't see what you're doing, Barnes."

"What I'm doing?" he asked innocently as he moved to make the drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Barnes—"

"You're rubbing your shoulder again. Does it hurt?"

"No," she said sharply. "I'm fine."

Bucky slammed down the cup he was holding. "Okay, I've tried my best to ignore that, but I _can't,_ Tilly. And I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop lyin' to me."

"I'm not—" She caught herself and stared at him. Her gaze flicked away to trace the ceiling. "Okay," she whispered. "I'm not fine. But there's nothing you can do about that."

"Watch me," he said easily, moving to her and pressing the hot drink into her hands. "Take a seat and I'll work on your shoulder."

"Bucky—"

"Please?"

It took a moment for her to act but then she did sit down. He began rubbing out the tension in her aching joint and she sipped at her coffee. Finally, she whispered, "Do you think I'm wrong to be against Steve enlisting?"

"No. He's just gonna get 'imself disappointed."

"Hmm. Hey, Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"You never get angry when I take my frustration out on you. That . . . I feel awful."

He pulled back and shifted to her side so he could give her an unimpressed look. "Are you wanting me to yell at you? Because that's not going to happen."

"No, no, that's not it. I just mean that . . . you put up with a lot from me. And I appreciate it. A lot. But . . . you don't have to. So why do you?"

He stared at her for a long time. Then he gave her a shaky smile. "Well, someone has to, right, doll?"

* * *

"Project Rebirth. At last . . . finished," Abraham breathed, staring out across the large room before them.

"I still prefer 'The Brooklyn Project,'" Howard mused. "Let that stuck-up jerk Oppenheimer—"

"Howie, behave," Matilda sighed.

"I agree with Rogers. Besides," Colonel Phillips said, stepping up to the large container where the subject would go, "the project isn't finished. Not by a long shot. You still need a man to be 'reborn' in this glorified cradle you built. Do you have an opinion on the matter, Carter?"

Matilda glanced back to find Peggy leaning against the wall, looking through the files she was holding. "Only that you need to choose your supersoldier right the first time. I've seen firsthand what that power can do in the wrong hands."

"Marge's right," Matilda said, frowning and shaking her head. "I've read the files on Schmidt. I've seen the footage. We don't want a repeat of him."

"I agree," Abraham said. "None of the candidates you've forwarded are suitable."

 _"_ _What?"_ Phillips straightened in alarm. "You're rejecting all _twenty_ of them? Your standards might be too high, Abraham."

"I don't think they are, Chester," Matilda said shaking her head. "If anything, they might not be high enough. I don't want us to risk recreating even a hint of Schmidt in our program."

"Matilda is correct. My standards are not too high. No, they must be the highest."

"Then if Roosevelt loses his patience, I'm turning him towards you."

"Roosevelt will get his soldiers," Matilda assured him. "Howard?"

"What, you think I should have a go at the serum?" Howard grinned. "I have to admit, that sounds tempt—"

"No." Abraham shook his head, though he was smiling slightly. "I hold much admiration for you and your work, Stark. But the final call is up to me and you would never make it that far."

"The final call might be up to you now," Phillips warned. "But if you take too long, I'll have to be the one to decide."

"Will all due respect, Colonel, you will not. The knowledge of the serum is up here." Abraham touched his fingers to his forehead. "And _only_ here. I never wrote it down so Schmidt had no choice but to keep me alive. So the choice is mine alone."

"None of this matters now. This round of candidates has been rejected. Further discussion is pointless until Abraham has more potential soldiers to look at." Matilda smoothed out her dress. "So I think we're done here? I have a family dinner to get to and I've already had to reschedule it enough times due to this project."

"Of course. Have a wonderful evening, Matilda," Abraham murmured.

She left as quickly as she could, just barely stopping to exchange a few words with Mary on her way out. She fell into her bad habit of speeding during the drive back to the apartment, where she found Bucky and Steve relaxing on the stairwell as they talked. She reached over and opened the passenger door. "We're going to be late to our reservation!"

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited and then smiled as they got in—Steve in the front and Bucky in the back. "So? How did it go at the recruiting office?"

Steve muttered something and glanced to the side as she started driving. He sighed. "4F."

"Oh." She didn't say anything else. That was what she'd been expecting, after all. "Bucky?"

"I was accepted. They said they'll send me my orders for basic."

Matilda swallowed, studying the odd feeling that put in her chest. "Oh. Okay."

"How was work?" Bucky asked, trying to steer the conversation in another direction with little subtlety.

"Good. I'm . . . not allowed to talk about it."

"Oh."

She cleared her throat loudly. "Let's discuss something I _can_ talk about. How are your art classes going, Stevie?"

* * *

"You didn't have to come."

"I'm glad to. Besides, Stevie's in class and you need _someone_ to see you off." Matilda adjusted his suspenders and smoothed out his shirt. "Are you nervous?"

"Should I be?"

She rolled her eyes. "Careful. Your sass might get you in trouble with your supervising officers."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Of course you are." With a satisfied sigh, Matilda stepped back. "We're gonna miss you."

"Hmm." He tilted his head at her. "Hey, Tilly?"

"Yeah?"

"If I asked you to write me, what would you say?"

That drew a smile out of her and she reached out, flicking his nose. "That's a stupid question, Barnes. Of course I'll write you." She was interrupted by the sound of the train pulling up and blowing its horn loudly. "That's you." She picked up his bag and pressed it into his arms. Matilda rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Good luck."


	12. Chapter 11 - Pen to Paper

**Author's Note:** This chapter is done in the form of Bucky and Matilda's exchange of letters during his time in basic. Just to make it a bit easier, Bucky's letters are italicized and Matilda's aren't.

I give you the twelfth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Eleven - Pen to Paper

 _Tilly,_

 _Thank you for giving me Mountain Interval to read. The train ride was longer than I expected and it was nice to have something to distract myself. I've never really been out of Brooklyn before, which is something you haven't been familiar with for a long time. What was it like for you the first time you left home? It was a little more dramatic for you, I can imagine._

 _I got to meet my bunkmates. You would probably find them entertaining but only for a little bit. Then I expect they would annoy you._

 _Jacob Crowell would definitely be the first to get on your bad side, I think. First day he tried to show off and almost put a knife through the colonel's foot. He's gotta do dish work for two weeks to make up for it. Then he got in trouble cause he decided to ignore the no alcohol rule on base._

 _Oliver Hilt didn't seem too bad at first. You shoulda seen him waving his picture of his girl everywhere and talking about how lucky he was. Then McCutcheon and I caught him snogging one of the nurses after curfew._

 _Speaking of McCutcheon. His name's Arthur and he's probably the one you'd be the least upset with. He's quiet. Doesn't cause a lotta ruckus. But he packs a punch. Nearly broke my nose during training. Poor guy is still upset over it. Thomas Gohl thought it was hilarious. He's been telling the story to everyone we've come across. He's told it to Amos Daniels probably seven times, though Daniels keeps reminding him that he was there._

 _I've seen some SI tech just during my time here already. It's impressive. I haven't mentioned that I know you, but sometimes it's tempting to rub it in the smug faces of some of the other trainees around here. Especially when they make comments about the dolls they know. Hilt said something about skirts not being bright and I wanted to use everything you've ever done to prove him wrong. But if I'm being honest, you've done more than I could possibly remember or repeat._

 _How are you and Steve doing? Is Howard driving you insane? Try not to get too bent when he does something stupid. I miss everyone._

 _Yours,_

 _Bucky_

* * *

Dear Bucky,

I'm glad you've liked it. Frost is a favorite of mine. Is there a particular one of his poems that you're drawn to the most? My favorite of his actually isn't in that collection but in another one, which I included with this letter to give you something else to read in your free time, though I don't expect you have a lot of that. The poem that I'm most fond of is called Ghost House. Howard says I have a depressing taste in poetry.

Your bunkmates certainly seem like an interesting bunch. I would warn you not to let them get on your nerves, but you've put up with me for so long that I don't think anyone can bother you really anymore. Thank you for the reminder about alcohol on base because I had considered sending you some of the scotch Howie and I picked up from our last trip.

I could send you a group picture of yourself with me, Steve, and Howard and you could leave it out inconspicuously. Maybe that would shut them up. And you're just flattering me at this point. I haven't done so much that you can't remember it. You've always had a great memory.

I'm doing well. Howard and I have an aircraft contract with the military now and so I've been working overtime on designs. Howard's been helping but he's also been busy laying the groundwork for the Expo next year.

Steve tried to enlist again. Said he was from New Haven. He didn't get caught but did get rejected again and I saw the paperwork. I don't think he knows that I know. You need to come back home so you can snap some sense into him. He's going to get caught and I don't know what I'm going to do if that happens.

We all miss you too.

Your friend,

Matilda

* * *

 _Tilly,_

 _Howard is right in saying you choose depressing poems, but I wouldn't say that's a bad thing. I've found myself rereading Frost's An Old Man's Winter Night quite a bit. Gohl asked what it was and I read it out loud and Hilt told me that he didn't understand it and then suggested we visit the nurses' quarters. When Daniels said he wasn't interested, Hilt called him a bluenose and in turn Crowell called him a bonehead. I didn't get a lot of sleep that night._

 _I should probably keep my mouth shut about knowing you because that would be a can of worms. But I don't think I'll manage that. So yes, I would love the picture._

 _You mentioned the Expo before but haven't told me much about it. Is this another one of the incredible things you two are doing that is going to make it impossible for me to find something to say?_

 _Steve is being an idiot. Tell him I said that, would you? And I know this is probably making you angry, but try not to yell at him. You always get upset with yourself when you yell at him. And I know you're always talking down about yourself due to your anger but I don't think you should. I know that maybe you shouldn't yell. But it lets us know that you care._

 _It sounds like you're busy. I know you well enough to know that you won't listen to me if I ask you to slow down or take a break, but I'm going to ask you anyway. Take a break. Slow down, please, because you seem stressed and I hate it when you're stressed. And please don't forget to eat._

 _I still miss everyone._

 _Yours,_

 _Bucky_

* * *

Dear Bucky,

I think Hilt just isn't intelligent enough to grasp Frost's work. You definitely are and I appreciate that. I shared some of his poems with Howard he just criticized Frost for not being able to communicate in a more simple way. Steve can appreciate poetry, but we haven't been on the best of terms lately. I have more poems I want to share with you, but I think I'll save them until you come home. An incentive for you to make sure you don't do anything stupid that keeps you from coming back.

I've included the picture. I do hope you stay out of trouble, though. I have my hands full keeping Steve away from the messes he makes, let alone having to help you.

You'll love the Expo. Howard and I are inviting inventors from all over to come to the convention and demonstrate their research and products. It will be like heaven for someone who enjoys science like you, even though sometimes you don't understand what I say.

I told him that you said that and he just got upset with me. He tried again. Apparently he's from New Brunswick now. I'm sorry that I didn't listen because Steve and I argued and I yelled at him again. Do you think it makes me a bad sister that I can't talk to him now without yelling?

You know me, stubborn as they come. I can't take a break. But I did eat today. I forgot to yesterday, but I ate today and I promise I'll do my best to remember to eat tomorrow. You take good care of me. Thank you.

Everyone still misses you.

Your friend,

Matilda

* * *

 _Tilly,_

 _I'll definitely have to come home for the rest of the poems. If you send me any more books I won't have room in my bag anymore._

 _I didn't manage to stay out of trouble. I got in a fight with another recruit. The reason isn't important. But the Colonel himself broke us up and we both got in trouble. I think I need you here to keep me in check._

 _I'm sorry that my letters are getting shorter and shorter. I'm getting less and less time to myself now. But that shouldn't matter in a little while. I should be home soon._

 _You shouldn't yell, we agree on that. But it doesn't make you a bad sister. You get bent easily. You know that. I'll help you get through that, right?_

 _I miss you._

 _Yours,_

 _Bucky_

* * *

Bucky,

I have poems waiting for you. At least once you're home I can keep you out of trouble.

I miss you.

Yours,

Tilly


	13. Chapter 12 - Tidings

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a little shorter because it's in the next chapter that we really hit everything. In the next chapter, we're officially in Captain America: The First Avenger!

I give you the thirteenth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Twelve - Tidings

"Thank you for the ride, Howard. And you're _sure_ you don't want to come over tomorrow?"

"Ana and Jarvis are planning to introduce me to some of their European traditions. I understand Ana makes some excellent Hungarian Christmas dishes." He rolled his eyes and smiled. "But you don't have to be such a worrier, Matilda. I'll be just fine."

"If you're sure." She leaned over and pecked a kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you Monday, then." She opened her door and climbed out, making sure to take her bag with her. Matilda took a moment to watch him drive off before letting her shoulders slump with exhaustion. She turned and trudged her way up the stairs to her apartment, digging her keys out. She started to unlock the door and frowned, pulling back. Then she twisted the doorknob and found the apartment already unlocked. Matilda pushed her way inside. "Stevie? Why's the door unlocked?" she called, setting her bag down and shutting the door.

"Juno! Look who's back!"

Unbuttoning her coat, she turned. "What are you—" She froze, breath catching. "Bucky?"

He grinned at her from his spot on the couch, looking exhausted with his uniform only half-buttoned and a glass of water in hand. "Really? That's all I get, doll?"

"You— You're back! I thought tomorrow— But you—"

He shrugged. "The original plan was to just go back to my place. But I wanted to see you." He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, setting the glass aside. "Wanted to see you two first."

Matilda stared at him. And then a grin broke her face. "You're back!" she said again. With a laugh, she dashed forward. Steve yelped in alarm and scrambled out of the way. Bucky shot to his feet only for her to collide with him and send them both tumbling backward over the back of the couch.

He landed on the floor with a grunt. "Wow," he gasped out. "Careful there, Tilly. I'm gonna need these ribs when they ship me out."

Matilda shifted so that she was kneeling next to him and then she dragged him into a hug. "Or you could just not leave ever again. I— We all missed you." She tucked her head down against his shoulder.

"Well, that—" He cleared his throat and then his arms came up around her. "That's nice to know." He tightened his arms around her and then rested his head against hers. "Missed you," he mumbled.

Steve cleared his throat loudly and Matilda jumped back, looking up to find him leaning over the couch and smirking down at them. "So," he said slowly, drawing out the word. "Is one of us gonna make dinner or are we going out?"

"Oh, right! I'll make dinner." Matilda dragged herself to her feet. "Are you hungry, Barnes? I bet you're starving." She paced over to the kitchen and started taking out her ingredients.

Bucky frowned, pulling himself up. He hesitated. "You look exhausted. Why don't the three of us just go out somewhere?"

She glanced back at him, visibly cautious. "Are you sure?"

"You look tired."

Matilda nodded once. "Um, okay, then. Let's go. Steve, do you—"

"I'm not changin'," he said, pulling at his suspenders. "I'm gonna wait by the car." He escaped out the front door.

Matilda glanced at where he'd gone and cleared her throat, shifting from foot to foot. "You _are_ hungry, right?" she murmured, glancing back at Bucky.

"Yes," Bucky said, buttoning his uniform back up. He began fumbling with his tie.

"Here." Matilda stepped over to him and knocked his hands away. Then she began carefully redoing the knot. "How was basic?" she asked, focusing on her work but painfully aware of the fact that he was watching her closely.

"Good," he said softly. "Exhausting. Lonely." He paused as she began tucking his tie into his uniform. "I missed you."

Matilda looked up at him and smiled. "We missed you too."

"No, I—" He groaned and dug his fingers in his hair. "I— I missed _you._ You have no idea how many times I just wanted to sneak off to the train station and come back here so I could see _you."_

She stared up at him to a long moment and he kept glancing nervously away. "Oh," she murmured. Matilda reached up and gently began fixing his hair. "Bucky?"

"It took me ten years to realize I was in love with you." And finally he managed to look her in the eye. As she took a nervous step back, lowering her hands, he straightened. "It took me ten years. And, and then it's taken me another seven to figure out how to say it." He cleared his throat and glanced away. "Sorry, I— I'm sorry. I've just had a lot to think about. Like I said, I missed you."

She pressed her lips together and tilted her head to the side. Then she reached out and carefully took his hand in hers. "You know, you really should have said something sooner. Here, Stevie and I thought you just lost interest in dating."

He chuckled, though there was still a nervous edge to it. "I lost interest in dating anyone who wasn't . . . well, you."

Matilda laughed and looked down at their hands, carefully lacing their fingers together. "That's sweet."

Bucky shifted nervously and his fingers flexed around hers. "Well, I feel it'd be a lot sweeter if you . . . if you'd be my girl. Or at least give me a chance. I mean, if you— You don't have to, but I would really—"

"I would love that," she assured him.

He smiled. "Thank you." Bucky tugged her forward, still holding her hand, and curled his free arm around her.

"So where are you taking me?" she teased.

"Ideally? California. Some expensive restaurant there and then we go dancing afterward and never, ever stop."

Matilda giggled and shifted so she could look up at him properly. "And on a more realistic note?"

"I don't know. I didn't think I'd get this far, if I'm being honest." Bucky glanced to the side. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas, would you?"

She took a deep breath. "How 'bout we start with Christmas Eve dinner? With Steve? The three of us together?"

"I like the sound of that." And then his eyes widened. "Shit, Steve is still waiting for us."

"That's okay. He can wait." Matilda leaned her head forward against his shoulder and finally released his hand so that she could curl her arms around him. "I'm glad you're back," she murmured. "I don't want you to leave again."

"You know I don't get to decide that," he sighed, leaning his head against hers and closing his eyes as he breathed softly into her hair. "I wish I could stay but we both know I can't."

The door opened. "Did you two lose your way to the door or— Oh."

Bucky looked up to find Steve standing in the doorway. The shorter man stared at the two of them and then grinned. Matilda shifted in Bucky's arms just enough that she could turn and look at her brother. "What?" she asked indignantly, though her tone was belied by the pink that started to spread across her nose.

Steve's grin just got wider. "Ya know, how 'bout I stay here and you two go to dinner?" He stepped fully inside and closed the door. "I'm not really feeling up for it anymore."

Matilda just flushed deeper and straightened. "Steve—"

"In fact, I think I'm just gonna hit the sack early. Good night." He stopped by them and kissed Matilda on the cheek before clapping Bucky on the shoulder. "Have fun."

Matilda tried again, pulling back a little from Bucky's hold. "Steve—"

He waved to them and then disappeared into his room, the door closing loudly. Her face burned and she glanced up at Bucky. He smirked. "Well?"

"Um, yeah, okay." She stepped so she was standing beside him and then she slid her hand in his. "When you think about it, the nicer places will be full. I don't have anything reserved—"

"That's okay."

She smiled. "Hey, Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"Je t'aime."

He blinked, pulling back a little. "Is that . . . French?"

"Yes."

"What's it mean?"

She smiled a little brighter now and her grip on his hand tightened. "It means 'I love you.'"

* * *

"Coffee," Bucky said brightly, setting the cup down on her desk. He moved to stand beside and duck down, hugging her and kissing the top of her head. "What are you working on?"

"Aircraft artillery," she murmured absently. She scratched out a few corrections to the blueprints in front of her. "I'd ask you to help, but . . . ."

"This is a little above my pay grade," he agreed. "Have you eaten today?"

She tensed in his hold and he sighed. Matilda set down her pen. "I just— I forgot."

He pulled back. "I'll get you something."

She watched him leave the room and mumbled, "Thank you." Then she returned to the plans.

"Here ya go. Eat up."

Matilda jumped in alarm, knees hitting the underside of the desk. "Holy—" She stared up at him. "When did you get back?"

He looked amused, setting the plate beside her. "Just now." That amusement turned into concern. "When's the last time you slept?"

She just smiled at him and moved her papers aside so she could replace them with the plate. Bucky gave up and leaned against the desk. After a little while, she looked up. "When you say you love me," she started softly, "you mean it?

He stared at her in surprise and then smiled. "Of course I mean it. Would I lie to you?"

"No," she said immediately. "I know you wouldn't." She yawned widely and tried to hide it with her hand.

Bucky frowned and straightened. "We should get you home. You need some sleep."

She waved a hand and pushed her empty plate away. "Later. I have to finish this."

"Tilly—"

"Later," she said sharply, looking up at him. "I would love to get some sleep, Bucky, but this is larger than just me. Right? People are _dying_ and I can do something to help stop it. To protect them."

He stared at her. He sighed. "Alright. Show me some of your regular SI stuff that I can work on, doll. I wanna help."

* * *

"Tills, Horton's here."

Matilda paused and then wheeled herself out from under the car. "Already? But he's not supposed to be here until—" She glanced at the clock. "Oh." With a groan, she hauled herself up. "How do I look?"

Howard eyed her and then scoffed. "Like a mess. You've got that change of clothes in your office, right?" When she nodded, he waved to her. "Go, go, go. I'll stall him."

"You're the best, Howie." She stepped past him, careful not to get any grease on him, and escaped out into the hall and up the stairs. It took her five minutes to change and manage to get herself presentable, not a trace of oil in sight. Then she rushed to the meeting room. Matilda paused outside the door and took a deep breath to compose herself, clutching her folders to her chest. She pushed her way in. "Doctor Horton. It's a pleasure." She stepped forward, holding out her hand.

He got to his feet and shook her hand, smiling. "Please, call me Phineas. And I'm excited about the possibility of being a part of your Expo."

"We're excited about that possibility too." She pulled out a chair and sat down, passing one file to Howard. "But as you can imagine, we've chosen to be particular about who we choose to present. So tell me why you think you should be a part of the Stark Exposition."

* * *

"He rejected this round of candidates too?" Matilda asked, looking down at the room in front of them where Abraham, Phillips, and Howard were in heated discussion. She glanced at the woman next to her. "I don't think Phillips really understands what he's supposed to be looking for."

"I don't know if any of us do," Peggy mused. "We were told that if we don't have a selection by the end of this next round, we could be shut down."

"And Erskine?"

"He's willing for us to be shut down if it means we don't use the wrong person." Peggy glanced at her. "The colonel considered Barnes, you know." When Matilda straightened in alarm, Peggy laughed. "Don't think I don't know who you spend your time with, Matilda. We may not talk about our personal lives but that doesn't mean I don't notice things."

"Right. Phillips?"

Peggy cleared her throat. "Phillips. He considered him right up until that fight. Do you know what it was about?"

Matilda shrugged. "He mentioned the fight but never explained further. Why?"

"The men were training using SI firepower. Recruit named Isaaks complained about the design. Blamed it for his poor aim. Phillips told him that you yourself delivered that shipment of weapons and tested and demonstrated them. Said that proved the fault was with Isaaks and not you."

"Nice of him to defend the honor of my work."

"Well, Isaaks didn't appreciate that. Called you a few choice words that were sprinkled in among his very negative opinions of a woman being in the scientific field. Followed by a comment about what you're _really_ good for."

Matilda winced. "Ah."

"As you can imagine, Barnes didn't take well to that. Turned where he was standing and knocked Isaaks on his ass with one blow. That was the fight. Or how it started, at least."

"And Phillips?"

"He remembered Erskine's previous reservations with candidates. Being too battle ready. Too quick to fight. Quick to turn on allies over a disagreement. So he didn't nominate him."

Matilda frowned and her hands tightened on the railing. "I... I think he'd do well with the serum."

"Hmm. Well, for what it's worth, I disagree with Phillips's conclusion." Peggy smiled and turned, stepping down the stairs. "Don't you have weapons plans for the colonel to look at?"

"Howard has them. I have things I have to deal with for the Expo." Matilda pulled on her curls for a moment then turned. "I'll see you Tuesday, then."

When she reached the front office, Mary asked, "Heading out?"

"Yes. When Chester leaves could you give him this, please?" Matilda asked, handing over a thick envelope. "It's the contract adjustments he asked for."

"I'll make sure they get to him."

"Thanks, Mary. You look nice today." With that and a wave, Matilda stepped outside and slid seamlessly into her car.

When she arrived at the Expo area, she called, "Dean! Talk to me!"

The man jumped, clipboard clutched to his chest. "Miss Rogers! O-of course! The enlistment area has its groundwork laid. It will be finished by noon tomorrow. Most of the presenters have already set up their areas, though we are still waiting on O'Hara and Braddock. Doctor Braddock isn't supposed to land until this evening, but he assured us that his things would be ready to present by morning." He held out a layout of the Expo to her, various sites marked and annotated.

Matilda took it and looked it over. "And O'Hara? What's his story?"

"We don't know yet."

She frowned and then handed the Expo layout back. "Keep me updated on that. Okay, walk me through everything."


	14. Chapter 13 - OAO

**Author's Note:** So the flowers in the bouquet Bucky gets for Matilda are red carnations, white lilies, and myrtle. Bonus points to anyone who looks up the flower language meanings!

I give you the fourteenth installment of _Rage, Rage._

* * *

Chapter Thirteen - O.A.O.

"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched."

Steve dragged his wrist across his mouth. "I had him on the ropes." He sniffed and started brushing off his clothes.

Bucky frowned and then reached down, picking up the papers on the ground. "How many times is this?" He unfolded the forms and sighed. "Oh, you're from Paramus now? You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form. Steve, c'mon. This is ridiculous."

Steve groaned and looked up, but he next few words died on his tongue. He eyed Bucky's uniform. "You get your orders?"

Bucky looked down at the forms and then tucked them away in his pocket. "The 107th," he said proudly, straightening a little. "Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out first thing tomorrow."

"I should be going."

"C'mon, man—"

"Does Juno know yet?"

Bucky glanced to the side and hesitated. "Um, not yet. I haven't got a chance to see her. I stopped by the office, but I guess she's over at the Expo. It's kept her pretty busy recently, and with it opening today I expect she has a lot of finishing touches to do."

"Right." Steve groaned and ran his hands through his hair to try to fix it. "That's tonight, isn't it?"

"Sure is." Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

"Um, yeah, I can do it myself. Why don't you go ahead and head over. You don't wanna be late."

He squinted at him and then shrugged. "Okay, fine. Just make sure you show up, okay?"

"You think I wouldn't?"

Bucky turned and walked down the alley with a little wave. "I'm gonna be honest, I don't understand half of what you do anymore. Just show up!" He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled off down the street, whistling. A few blocks later, he pushed his way into a shop.

The woman at the front desk looked up. "Good afternoon. What can I do for you?"

"I placed an order earlier," he said, digging out his wallet. "Barnes."

"Ah, of course. Let me get that for your, Mister Barnes. That will be one thirty-seven, please." With that said, she disappeared into the back room. Bucky counted out the money on the counter. When she returned, she was carrying a bunch of flowers. She passed it to him and the paper wrapped around the bouquet crinkled. The woman smiled. "Have a nice day, sir."

"Thanks." He left the store and turned towards the Expo before hesitating. It only took a few minutes for him to detour to get some food and coffee and then he headed off.

When he got to the Expo area, one of the security guards around the perimeter held up a hand. "The Exposition isn't open yet, son."

Bucky cleared his throat. "Barnes. I'm here to see Tilly. Er, Matilda Rogers."

The man frowned at him and then nodded. "Wait here with Hardin." He nodded to the other guard right next to him. "I'll go check."

Bucky nodded and tapped his foot nervously as he waited. He glanced at Hardin. "What's up?"

Hardin just raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Sorry."

"Miss Rogers will see you," the first guard said, returning. "Go right on through. You can't miss her."

"Thanks." Bucky stepped past them and listened for a second before following the loud voice. Turning a corner, he found Matilda yelling instructions to the people that were hanging up the curtain on the stage. He stepped up to her and looked up at where they were fastening the long curtain. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

Matilda jumped and then glanced at him. She grinned and brushed some of her loose curls from her face. "Bucky, you're early."

"Are you complaining about that?" He smiled. "Here, I brought you something."

Her eyes widened. "Bucky, you—" She grinned and took the flowers. "They're gorgeous."

"And food and coffee. Because you probably forgot to eat today, right?"

Matilda winced. "I had an apple at breakfast."

He sighed. "Better than I thought. You have somewhere to sit down and eat?"

"Um, yes, actually. I have a dressing room of sorts. I need to get ready soon anyway." She turned so she was side-by-side with him and put her hand on his elbow. "This way." And then she faltered for a moment before walking. "Bucky?" she asked softly.

"Yes?"

"You . . . got your orders?"

He glanced at her and pulled his arm away so that he could grab her hand instead. Lacing his fingers with hers, he murmured, "Sergeant Barnes. Leaving in the morning."

She looked at him and smiled tightly. "Proud of you, Sarge," she murmured. She squeezed his hand. "I'll miss you." She pushed open a door.

"Well, you'll write me, won't you?"

"Of course." Matilda stepped over to the room's desk and set her flowers down. Bucky closed the door and then moved to set the coffee and food down on the desk. "Thank you."

"Gotta take care of my girl, don't I? Now eat up." He pulled out the chair. "And promise me you'll take care of yourself while I'm gone."

She sat down and sighed, reaching for the food. "I'll do my best," she said. "That's as much as I can promise."

He took a deep breath. Then he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "That will have to do. I love you."

"Thank you."

* * *

"About time you made it. Howard's about to open the Expo. C'mon." Bucky grasped Steve's elbow and steered him towards the large crowd as the woman on stage announced the Exposition's beginning. "You gonna be good with both of us leaving tomorrow? Matilda's got some military contract thing."

"Yeah," Steve said, pulling his arm away. "I'll be fine. Where is she, by the way?"

"Still running things behind the scenes. She said she'll be done soon and then the three of us can go dancing, since Howard is the one doing the presenting and she just had to get it all set up." Bucky straightened and then rolled his eyes as Howard strolled onto the stage and planted a large kiss on the woman before promptly wiping his lips with his handkerchief as he turned to the crowd. "Speak of the devil."

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Howard said, smiling out at the crowd. "What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won't even have to touch the ground at all?"

Bucky straightened. "No way," he breathed, watching as the car's wheels were removed. "They didn't."

"Is this what Juno's been workin' on?" Steve murmured.

"She's been working on a lot of stuff. It's— Whoa." Bucky's eyes widened as the car lifted. "Holy cow, Tilly," he mumbled. "That's impressive. Steve, it's—" He looked to the side to find he wasn't there. "Steve?" He turned in a circle and Steve wasn't anywhere. And then he saw the sign for the recruitment center and sighed. "Punk," he muttered, pushing through the crowd towards the center.

He found Steve standing on a platform, staring at the way he was too short for his face to properly appear in the soldier reflection in front of him. "Come on," he sighed. "Tilly's almost done. We're gonna take her dancing."

"You go ahead. I'll catch up," Steve said, stepping down.

Bucky sighed and glanced around at the other people there. "You're really gonna do this again?"

"Well, it's a fair. I'm gonna try my luck."

"As who? Steve from Ohio? They'll catch you. Or worse, they'll actually take you."

"Look, I know you don't think I can do this."

"It's not just about me. She worries about you enough as is."

"I can take care of myself," Steve said, frowning. "I don't need her hanging over me."

"She's not—" Bucky sighed. "You can't do this, Steve."

"I can. You don't think I can, but I can."

"This isn't some back alley." Bucky took off his cap and fiddled with it nervously. "This is _war._ There's so many other things you could do. You don't have to fight."

"What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal—"

"Yes!"

"—in my little red wagon? C'mon, Buck. There are men laying down their lives! I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."

Bucky stared at him for a long moment. With a sigh, he put his cap back on. "Right. 'Cause you've got nothing to prove."

"This isn't about—" Steve groaned. "I need to do something. There are people dying. Shouldn't I try to stop that if I can?"

"There's no point in arguing with you." Bucky glanced back as loud applause started. "I should get going. Try not to do anything stupid until I get back, okay?"

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Bucky scoffed and grinned. He jerked Steve into his arms and hugged him tightly. "Take care of her while I'm gone. Okay?"

Steve hugged him back and, after a moment's pause, said, "Of course." As he pulled back, he flicked at Bucky's hat.

Bucky rolled his eyes and fixed his cap. "You're a punk."

"You're a jerk. Be careful."

"Got it." Bucky nodded to him and turned, heading off. When he glanced back, Steve was gone. With a tired sigh, Bucky glanced around to try to figure out where Matilda would be.

"Looking for me?"

He glanced behind him to find her standing there. "Tilly!" He reached out and drew an arm around her waist. "Of course I was."

"Hmm." She let him pull her to him. "Where's Steve?"

"Where do you think?" He gestured to the recruitment center. "I tried to talk sense into him, but . . . ."

"Yeah, I get it," she mumbled, eying the center.

"He already tried enlisting earlier today. Apparently he's from Paramus."

"Steven," she groaned, letting her head fall against Bucky's shoulder. "They're gonna catch him. We're both going to be gone so we can't stop him and he's just going to keep trying and trying and— Goddammit." She straightened and pulled away. "I've gotta stop him."

"Tilly." He reached for her as she started marching away. He rushed to catch her and looped an arm around her waist. "Whoa, Tilly, you can't stop him. You know that. He's made his own choices."

"But—"

"He'll just try again as soon as we're gone."

Her shoulders slumped and she turned to him. "Okay. I— Yeah, okay." She looked up at him. "When . . . when are you leaving?"

"Boat leaves at seven in the morning."

"Okay." She nodded, thinking it over. Then she smiled and rose up, kissing his cheek. "I promise you, then, that these last few hours in Brooklyn will be amazing, okay?"

He felt his face start to burn. "O-okay."

She grinned up at him and then took his hand, pulling him away. "Let's go dancing."

* * *

As she locked the door behind them, she said, "Shh. I think Stevie's sleeping."

"It is one in the morning," Bucky pointed out, grinning and playing with one of her curls. "That would make sense."

"Hmm." She turned and smiled up at him. "I have to pack C'mon, Sarge." She took his hand and led him down the hallway to her room. "You've got plenty of paper to write me?" she asked, setting her flowers on her nightstand. Then she pulled her suitcase out from under her bed. She opened it on top of her quilt and then went to her wardrobe, throwing the doors open.

He watched as she pulled out the things she needed and began fitting them in the bag. "Yeah. I've got plenty. How long are you going to be gone?"

"Week minimum. After that, it depends." She closed the suitcase and pressed down on it as she secured it. When she pulled back, she was rubbing her right shoulder. "You know, if you had told me three years ago that any of this would be happening . . . ."

"I know what you mean." He stepped forward. "Shoulder hurting you?"

"Um, just a bit. You hungry? I'm hungry."

He followed her back to the main room and pushed her towards the couch. "Rest," he murmured. "I'll get you something to eat."

"You don't—"

"Sit down." He stepped over to the kitchen and dug around before coming up with the right supplies. He made a sandwich and then moved back over to her. "Am I gonna have to ask Howard to make sure you eat while I'm gone?" he asked, setting the plate down on her lap. He stepped behind her and began kneading out the pain in her shoulder.

"No, you don't have to do that," she murmured, picking up the sandwich. "I'll be okay." She devoured the sandwich, listening to him hum as he worked. Matilda set her empty plate aside and rested her head back against the cushions. "I love you, Sarge" she murmured.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Tilly."

She reached up and tugged on his sleeve. "Come sit with me."

He laughed and the hopped over the back of the couch, landing on the cushions. Matilda took off his cap and ran her hands through his hand. Then with a grin, she put on the hat. "How do I look?"

Bucky smirked at her. "Fabulous."

* * *

Matilda jerked awake at the feeling of something wrong. She blinked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She winced at the feeling and wrinkled her nose. She hadn't taken her makeup off last night? Yawning, she glanced around. Confusion set in. Why was she in the main room? Why—

The heavy yawn caught her attention and she jerked her gaze to the side. Bucky dragged a hand down his face, sitting up. "Wha— Tilly?" he mumbled tiredly. "What's wrong?"

"I—" Okay, then, apparently they'd fallen asleep on the couch. The Expo had made her more tired than she thought. Matilda glanced towards the clock. "Shit!" She scrambled up. "I have to get ready!"

"Wh-what?"

"Where's your stuff? Is it at your place? Go get it! I'll drive you to the docks! We don't want to be late!" With that, she dashed down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Matilda hurriedly rinsed off her face and scrubbed off her makeup. Her eyes tried to close and she yawned for a moment before shaking her head furiously to keep herself awake. After reapplying her makeup, she stepped out into the hallway, running her hands through her hair. A glance towards the main room told her that Bucky had already left. A few minutes later, she was dressed with her hair redone and hopping out of her room as she tried to slip on her shoes.

She was in the middle of making breakfast when the door opened. She glanced back to find Bucky stepping inside, uniform fixed back up and his bag over his shoulder. "Got everything?"

"Sure do?" He set the bag by the door and stepped over to her. Bucky slid his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her cheek. "I'm going to miss you so much," he whispered.

She shivered at his low voice and then dished out the eggs on three plates, alongside the bacon and toast that were already there. "I'll miss you too. Now eat up. You'll, uh, you'll definitely need your strength."

He took his plate with murmured thanks and she carried the last two over to the table. As he sat down, Bucky asked, "Steve?"

"Not up yet. He's probably just tired." She brushed off her skirt and stepped down the hallway. Matilda paused at Steve's door and knocked softly. "Stevie, food's ready when you get up, okay?"

There was no answer.

"I'll see you when I get back." With that, she returned to the table.

"Nothing?"

Matilda shook her head. "Like I said: tired." She took a bite of her toast and glanced nervously at the clock. "We've only got a few minutes. After you leave, Howard and I are—"

"You look nice."

She blinked, stopping short. "I—" She flushed deeply. "Yeah, I— Thanks." She sat down her toast. "C'mon, we need to go now. Let me grab my bag and—"

"You need to eat before—"

"We have to go now or you're going to be late," she interrupted, disappearing into her room. She returned a moment later, carrying her suitcase and her keys in hand. "Let's go." She waved him out the door ahead of her. "Bye, Stevie!" She closed the door behind them and locked it. "C'mon. You can't miss that boat."

"I won't miss it. We'll be okay." He took her suitcase from her and motioned her down the stairs ahead of him. "Where are you going, by the way? I know it's military business, but where are you being sent? Um, if I'm allowed to know."

She hesitated and glanced back at him. Then she unlocked the car before walking around to the back to open the trunk. "Camp Lehigh."

He blinked. "Really? That's where I was." He set their bags in the trunk and then closed it.

"I know. Howard and I have a working contract with Colonel Phillips." She slid into the front seat and then waited for him to get in. Then she took off. "Hey, Sarge?"

"What is it?" he asked.

"You—" She cut herself off as she took a sharp corner and narrowly avoided hitting another car. "You'll be okay, right?"

"Of— Car!"

"Yeah, I see it," she muttered.

Bucky took a deep breath. "Um, yeah. Of course I'll be okay. As long as you don't kill us before I even make it on the boat."

"Of course I won't. I'm a perfectly safe driver." As she said it, she swung in through a side street and sped down it before turning onto the last street to the docks. "I haven't killed anyone yet." She pulled to a stop and turned off the car. But even as Bucky got out of the car and closed his door, she didn't move. After a minute, his door opened again and he bent down so he could look inside, his bag slung over his shoulder.

"You know," he said softly, "I still have to leave even if you stay in here."

"Yeah, I know," she rasped, drumming her fingers nervously on the wheel. "I'm working on it."

He sighed and the door closed again. Matilda leaned her head forward against the steering wheel and took a long, shaky breath. Her door opened this time and a hand touched her shoulder. "C'mon, Tilly. Let's get you out. I want to say goodbye." He slid his hand down her arm and gently grasped her wrist. He pulled her out with a easy tug and she immediately curled into his chest, hiding her face in his shoulder. "I know," he murmured, closing the car door and then holding her close. "I know. I'm gonna miss you too."

She pulled back and sniffled a little, eyes shining even though her face was dry of tears. "I love you, Sarge."

"Love you too. You take care of yourself now, you hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Good." He glanced over his shoulder at the officer that was checking the soldiers in and then waving them on the boat. "I have to go. I'll write you." He pulled back and gave her a half-hearted salute.

Matilda tried to form the words to ask him to stay, but her voice died in her throat. She could only hug her arms to herself and watch as he left. She took a shaky breath and looked down. When she blinked, she felt the water roll down her far and off her nose and she watched as it splashed against the ground below.

Loud footsteps sounded and she looked up to find Bucky just a few feet away. He closed the distance and she opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. He pressed his lips against hers and brought his hands up to her face, framing her jawline as they kissed. Matilda's eyes widened and then she realized what was happening and pressed into it, letting her eyes fall closed.

Far too soon, he pulled back and took a deep breath as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you," he said, voice raw. "I'm coming back to you. I promise that. Okay?"

She sniffed and this time couldn't stop the tears. She nodded and smiled blearily. "Okay," she rasped. "I love you."

The officer blew his whistle and Bucky hesitated. He brushed her tears away with his knuckles. "I'm coming back." The whistle sounded again. "I love you." Then he turned and, this time not looking back, took off for the boat at a jog. Matilda just watched, tugging out her handkerchief and using it to dry her tears, as Bucky spoke to the officer and then was waved aboard.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, looking to the side. "Oh. Howie."

He smiled, though it was tinged with worry. "Sad goodbye, huh?"

"Um, yeah." She tucked her handkerchief away and cleared her throat, eying his suitcase. "Put it in the trunk. We need to get going."

"Tills, are you okay?"

"C'mon, we can't be late."

* * *

"Matilda, my dear, it is good to see you." Abraham embraced her and, as he pulled back, placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. "You are well?"

"I am. You seem excited," she pointed out, smiling.

"Ja! And I have every reason to be, fräuline! I believe we have found the man! The right man. The good man."

Her eyes widened. "Really? Just like that?"

"Yes, yes. I met him at the recruitment center at that Expo of yours. The colonel probably will not be impressed, but his concerns will disappear once he sees the effects of the serum."

"If it works," Howard pointed out. "We can't be sure until we actually use it. For all we know, it'll kill the poor guy right now."

Matilda winced and shook her head. With a sigh, she started walking to where Chester was speaking with the new recruits. "Abraham seems pretty sure about this, Howie."

Abraham stopped short where they were, looking ahead at where Peggy and Chester were speaking to the soldiers. He pointed. "There he is. Rogers, Steven."

And then Matilda felt her heart drop into a bath of ice and panic squeezed around her ribs as she stared at the last person she had ever expected to see at Camp Lehigh. "S-stevie?" she stuttered.

Abraham looked at her in surprise. "Ah, you know him?"

"Yeah . . . . Yes, I do. He's my brother."


	15. Chapter 14 - Geronimo

Chapter Fourteen - Geronimo

Matilda slammed the door as soon as they were all in the room. Then she started pacing, wringing her hands. "This is— How— You didn't know he was my brother?"

Abraham took off his glasses and began to clean them, calmly saying, "Your surname is not uncommon, dear."

"Yes, but—" She stopped pacing and turned. "We can't put him through this. We can't even be completely certain that a perfectly healthy man would survive, let alone—" She snapped her mouth shut with a click and hissed between her teeth.

"Let alone a ninety pound asthmatic with twenty separate medical conditions," Howard said, crossing his arms with a frown. "It's not like we can find another person like Steve to test it on to make sure he'd be safe."

"I know, I know. But I _can't_ let him do this! I won't let him! I don't know if— Ugh! I just—"

"We don't know if anyone would survive it." Peggy interrupted. "If a normal, healthy person couldn't survive, then Steve wouldn't have a chance."

"Would it— And I'm just . . . speculating here. Throwing out theories," Howard said. "If we could show that a healthy person would survive and even improve, would you at least let Steve do this?"

"I—" She bit her lip. "I, I still wouldn't be comfortable, but I would feel . . . better."

"Okay, then we just test the serum on a healthy individual."

"Can we do that?" Peggy asked, frowning."

"Stark, I know what you are suggesting," Abraham said, slipping his glasses back on. "I was not joking when I informed you that you are not fit for the serum, though I admire your willingness to risk yourself for the good of a friend."

"If you're so confident Steve is the right one, shouldn't you be willing to make an exception? Otherwise," Peggy said, "we'll be shut down and no one will get the serum. And I'm not sure the president will want to continue to protect you when you've given nothing. It's harsh, but I'm afraid that's what will happen."

"I'm not letting Steve go through with this," Matilda said. "Not when I can't— I just—" She swallowed thickly. "Would you . . . would you let me take the serum?"

Abraham frowned, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. Peggy shook her head. "The military would never approve a woman receiving the serum. I'm sorry."

"What if they didn't know?"

Peggy straightened in alarm. "Matilda, that's—"

"Possible," Abraham cut in. "You must understand, Miss Carter, that Steven Rogers could very well change the tide of the war."

Matilda glanced aside and anxiously smoothed out her skirt. "I know I'm not perfect. I know, um, I know that Steve's the good one and I'm the angry one. But I want to make sure this is safe for him. As safe as I think it can be."

"You do not have to be perfect, my dear. No, I would never find anyone if that is the case. And you are not as angry as you think, I believe. Your motivations are pure."

"Doctor Erskine, you aren't serious, are you?" Peggy asked. "I understand wanting to make it safe for Steve, but surely—"

"If this is what Matilda needs to ensure the safety of the one living relative she has left, I trust her." Abraham smiled faintly. "I wish I could have done the same for my own family."

"That's a lot of words and sentiment," Howard put in. "But what are you saying, Erskine?"

"I'm saying that perhaps we should speak with the colonel."

"He won't approve this," Peggy warned.

"He does not have to. We will tell him we are running a test of the equipment. It is not a lie, but it is what he needs to know, is it not?"

Then Howard started laughing—a full, head thrown back, hearty belly laugh. "I can't believe you're actually okay with this. Tills? I can totally see her coming up with this plan. But _you?"_ He wiped his eyes, still laughing. "This isn't actually happening, is it? This isn't—" He faltered, glancing between the three of them. "It isn't, right? It . . it is?"

Peggy hesitated. "This is wrong," she murmured. "I shouldn't be a part of this."

Matilda glanced at Abraham and, after he nodded, she turned to Peggy. "Then don't be. You'll stay here. If we get caught, you won't be a part of it. You'll be safe."

"I—"

"Please let me do this, Marge."

Peggy sighed. "Well, I can't stop you, can I?"

* * *

"I still think he isn't going to make it."

Matilda smile thinly, adjusting her hold on her suitcase. "You really should have more faith, Chester. Stevie really can do just about anything he sets his mind to."

The colonel shook his head. "As his relative, you're obligated to say that, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

He sighed. "But fine. If you're so sure, go test your goddamn equipment. But I expect all three of you to be back soon. Understand?"

"Got it," Howard said, giving a mocking salute. "Let's go!" He snatched Matilda's bag from her and tossed it in the trunk. "Everyone in! If Tills drives, we'll be there in time for early dinner."

Peggy shook her head and watched as Matilda got in the front seat. Then the car peeled off. Chester cleared his throat. "I know exactly what is going on."

Peggy looked up, frowning. "Oh?"

"I won't stop it. And I won't expose them."

She swallowed and glanced at where the car was disappearing in the distance. "You trust them?"

"More than I probably should." He sighed. "They're the three smartest people I know. But they're also the three most reckless people I know."

"Do you think they're wrong?"

"They think they're doing the right thing. I'll trust them on that." He cleared his throat loudly. "Let's go take a look at this scrawny brother that they're placing all their bets on, shall we?"

* * *

Matilda jumped when the door closed loudly. She looked up and swallowed thickly, flexing her arm against the odd feeling of Abraham preparing the injection spots. "Mary?"

"On a lunch break," Howard said, walking down the stairs. "I suggested a new place father away than her normal haunt. I'd say we've got an hour. Max." He took Erskine's place beside the platform she was on as the older man turned away. "How do you feel?"

"Nervous."

"Ya know, if this goes wrong—"

"Then I'll be happy we tested it before you did it to Steve."

Erskine stepped up, preparing the shot of penicillin. "And if it works, Miss Rogers?"

"Then I won't stop you from using it on Steve." She took a long, shaky breath and lifted her chin, staring up at the ceiling. As the needle slid into her skin, she let the breath out. Then she nodded. "I'm ready."

"Alright. Good luck," Howard said, stepping away. He pushed the lever.

The platform she was on began moving, tilting upright and closing the machine around her. The metal pressed into her arms and she could feel the needles pricking into her skin. Matilda closed her eyes tightly and leaned her head back, surrendering to the machine. She'd never been claustrophobic before, but she was starting to feel it now.

Someone knocked on the metal. "Miss Rogers? How are you feeling? Are you ready?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to," she called, trying her best to keep her voice from trembling.

There was a moment of silence. Then she heard Erskine say, "Yes, she's ready. Begin."

"Starting at ten percent power," Howard said distantly.

Her skin grew hot, but there was ice in her veins. Matilda let out a slight whine and tilted her head back, shutting her eyes.

"Twenty percent."

The air felt like it was beginning to thin. Had it always been this hard to breathe?

"Thirty percent."

She bit through her lip and tasted iron. The pain from the bullet in her shoulder renewed. But why was it her head that hurt? Matilda tried to shake her head to dislodge the pain, but there was no room to move.

"Forty percent."

Someone was talking distantly, more memory or dream than reality, and her ears ached from trying to listen. She balled her hands into tight, angry fists.

"Fifty percent."

Her bones started to creak and ache and she threw her head back harshly against the machine, trying her best not to scream.

"Sixty percent."

She was hyperventilating now. The air was thin and her memory was thinning, plagued with unfamiliar faces and heat in the center of her head.

"Seventy percent."

She felt words itching the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite say them. Tears burned her eyes.

"Eighty percent."

Is this what it felt like to die? She already knew what it was like to die, didn't she?

"Ninety percent."

Though the cloudy haze in her head, she became vaguely aware that someone was screaming. Her own throat felt raw and she wondered when she had stared.

"Rogers!" Erskine called, banging on the metal. "Are you alright?"

She gasped for the air that she couldn't quite get into her lungs. "Yes!" she rasped out, desperate for it to just be _over._

"Continue, Mister Stark!"

"If you're sure," Howard said distantly. "Ninety-five. And . . . one hundred percent. Done!"

Matilda's chest burned and she couldn't quite open her eyes. Red light flooded in past her eyelids and she gasped at the sudden influx of air. With no small amount of struggle, she opened her eyes. The unfamiliar echoes of voices hadn't quite stopped, but they were subdued. Subdued and overpowered by the bright light.

Howard was standing right in front of her, Erskine behind him. He swallowed and then gave her one of his ridiculous grins. "Well? How do you feel?"

Feeling drained back into her limbs, followed by an immense sense of relief from pain. She groaned in relief. "Not awful," she said tiredly. "At least, I'm not dying." She took his hand and let him help her out. "The world is still spinning, though."

"You'll survive." Howard thrust a shirt at her. "Erskine and I are going to clean up. Take a moment to catch your breath."

She rasped in a breath, struggling into the shirt. "It worked."

"It did indeed." Erskine looked delighted. "I should head back," he said, setting all the knobs back to their initial setting. "You'll stay for a few days to monitor her health, Stark?"

"Of course." Howard moved back over to her.

She frowned at him. "Did you . . . get shorter?"

He looked unimpressed, and the expression was odd to see when she was so much more on eye-level with him than usual. "No. You got taller, Tills. Quite a bit taller, actually."

"Lovely." She stared down at herself. "And my pants are now . . . several inches to short."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "You might need a new wardrobe. We'll take care of that. Hungry?"

"Impossibly so."

"Good. I'll finish cleaning up before Mary gets back. Put on that coat we brought. It's huge, so it should still hopefully be a little big for you."

As she did so, he hurried about erasing any sign that they had used the machine for anything more than a power test. By the time he finished, she was starting towards the stairs. She missed the first step and caught herself in alarm. "Holy—" Matilda took a deep breath. "So, I'm a little uncoordinated with this new body. Note that."

"I will as soon as we're away from the possibility of being discovered. Go." He gripped her elbow and led her up the stairs. "Does it hurt?"

"It did before," she said, curling her toes against the cold floor as they walked. "Not now. I just feel . . . I'm not sure."

"You're not dead," he pointed out, and something about that statement struck her as odd. "So that's good."

"Let's celebrate the little things, at least." She hunched in on herself when they got outside. Howard guided her forward and opened the car door. Matilda stumbled inside. She leaned her head back against the seat and groaned.

Howard got in behind the steering wheel. "Dizzy?"

"As hell," she muttered. "Stop the ride, please. I would like to get off."

Howard laughed and started driving. "Let's get some wine in you and see if that makes you feel better."

She groaned. "Oh, god, Howard, no. That sounds awful right now."

"That's what I'm best at."

"I hate you."

"You know that's not true."

"I don't know; the concept's growing on me." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. But when she did so, a flash of black burned her eyes and pain stabbed into her forehead. She gasped and snapped back up.

Howard glanced sideways at her. "Something wrong?"

"I, I don't know."

"Huh. Okay, well Ana will make you some tea. Help you calm down."

"They're going to notice."

"True. But they won't tell anyone."

Matilda took a deep breath. "No. No, they won't." She rubbed her forehead. "I need a nap," she groaned.

"At least wait until we get inside. You can sleep all you want today. In the morning, we have some tests to run."


	16. Chapter 15 - Baptized by Fire

Chapter Fifteen - Baptized by Fire

"You're sure it's all ready?"

"Yes." Matilda swallowed, back aching from the way she was exaggerating her slouching in an attempt to make herself look shorter. "And Steve?"

Chester stared at her, lips tight. Then he glanced at Erskine and nodded. "I've cleared him. He's a poor soldier as it stands now. Hopefully this serum changes that. And you? You won't try to kill us if we put him through it?"

Her mouth was dry. "No," she rasped. "I won't."

"Good. I'll inform him. We leave first thing in the morning." With that said, Phillips turned and left the room, letting the door bang closed behind him.

Matilda sighed in relief and straightened, spine popping a bit as she did so. Peggy raised an eyebrow. "He knows."

"He— What?"

"He figured out exactly what was happening before you three left. He knows."

"And he, what? Just decided not to say anything about it?"

"He probably thought it was funny to see you going hunchback," she said, lips twitching. "It was a little amusing."

"It's not amusing, it's _amazing,"_ Erskine breathed, looking her up and down. "I knew we were successful, but my dear you look incredible."

"You think she _looks_ incredible?" Howard asked, grinning. He started digging through his bag. "Wait until you see the stats we got from her tests. Two minute mile, ten foot vertical jump, a—" He shook his head, smile widening. "And all of this could get even better with training, of course! We topped out her strength at five hundred pounds, but that's because we ran out of weight plates, not because she couldn't lift more." He found what he was looking for and shoved the folder at Erskine, who took it excitedly.

Peggy glanced at Matilda. "If you're wanting to speak with your brother, I suggest you head to the barracks now. The soldiers are packing up their things, but he'll be delayed."

"Oh. Right."

"And Matilda?"

Matilda paused, glancing at her. "Yeah?"

"I suggest you be sitting down when he gets to the barracks."

Matilda smiled. "Yeah, probably a good idea." She left the room and took a deep breath of fresh air. Then she turned in the direction of the barracks. The moment she stepped inside, she was the focus of all the men in the room. One wolf-whistled and she put on a dark expression. "Carry on," she said sternly, voice carrying across the room. "I don't think I need to spell out what the colonel would do if you aren't all out of here in the next five minutes, do I?"

The all shifted and returned to their packing. She frowned and steeled her voice. "Do I?"

"No, ma'am!" they chanted, several of them lagging behind the group.

Matilda nodded and strode forward, headed for the one bed that wasn't currently occupied with a packing soldier. She stood at the end of the bed, staring down at the clean and smoothed out sheets. The bustle around her slowly died down as the soldiers left one after another. She sighed and sat on the bed across from Steve's. It squeaked as she did so and she frowned, reaching down. She felt under the bed at the springs until she found one that wasn't quite slotted in properly. Matilda leaned forward a bit to get a better angle and pulled at it.

It snapped.

"Shit," she gasped out, glancing side to side to find somewhere to hide it. "Shit, shit, shit," she whispered, so quietly she could barely even hear herself. "Shit, shit—"

"Juno?"

The familiar voice made her straighten and she looked over her shoulder. Matilda managed a smile. "Hey, Stevie." She ungracefully shoved the broken spring between the bed frame and the mattress.

"What—" He was frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"Chester talked to you?"

"Ches— Colonel Phillips?" He nodded, stepping forward.

She watched as he came around to stand in front of her. "You didn't think they could make something like that serum without my help, do you?"

His eyes widened and he glanced to the side and then back at her. "You were always super smart, Juno."

"Was?" she asked, grinning.

He waved a hand, dropping down onto his bed. "Well, not so much recently, what with you going dizzy over Buck, but—"

"Hey, watch it." Despite her sharp tone, she was still grinning and held out her arm to him. He scrambled over to the other bed and wrapped an arm around her waist. She dropped the smile. "So. Does this make it worth it for you to have run off and joined the army behind my back?"

Steve stiffened. "I— You would have stopped me."

She leaned her head down against his and wondered how he hadn't noticed the size difference yet. Maybe he was just always used to being dwarfed in her arms. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I would have."

"And now?"

"I'm . . . not going to stop you. I don't like it, but I won't stop you. And I'll be there every step of the way, believe me."

"Oh, I believe you."

"Ah, fräuline, this is where you went."

Matilda glanced back. "Abraham. Are you wanting to talk to him?"

Erskine smiled. "If I could, my dear."

She nodded and withdrew her arm from Steve, though she made no move to get up. Thankfully, Abraham understood exactly why and he motioned for Steve to join him. The moment Steve was up and facing the doctor, his back to his sister, Matilda breathed a sigh of relief and got to her feet. Just as she made it to the door, she heard Steve ask, "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked back to find Abraham smiling as he jokingly asked, "Just one?" The man waved a hand. "Sit, sit. It seems we have much to discuss."

* * *

"I can't do this."

"I swear that if you pass out I'm only going to laugh."

"Now, now, Stark," Abraham said. "I sympathize with Matilda. This is going to be very trying on her patience, is it not?"

Howard finally looked up from the penicillin he was preparing. "Hmm. Yeah, I guess. Tills, you're not going to pass out, are you?"

"No," she ground out. "But it's tempting to hit you."

Howard squinted at her. "You've been testy. Erskine?"

"Hmm? A potential side-effect, yes. That we always knew. It will take patience and practice for her to learn how to properly reign her emotions in."

Matilda straightened, feeling the paleness in her own face. "That's—"

"Don't worry," he assured her, smiling. "I believe you are more than capable."

A loud door made Matilda look up and she caught her breath, staring up at where Peggy was standing at the stairs. Right behind her? Steve was looking around, fidgeting anxiously. He saw her and smiled, giving a nervous wave. Peggy said something to him and then started down the stairs. Matilda took a deep breath.

"You better be right about this."

She looked up, eyes wide, to find Phillips standing next to her. "Right?"

"About your brother being the right one."

Matilda's expression steeled. "He's the right one."

"Hmm." He nodded once. "I'm going to the box." He turned on his heel and left.

Matilda refocused to find that Erskine was speaking to Steve while the latter started removing his clothes. She took a deep breath and glanced to the side at the workers under the command of Erskine, Howard, and herself. She barked out an order to one of them to prep Steve for injection and hoped they couldn't hear her voice shaking. Something touched her arm and she glanced to the side to find Howard holding out her goggles to her. She took them and murmured her thanks. After a deep breath, she stepped towards the pod Steve was lying in.

"You save me any of that schnapps?"

"Not as much as I should have. Sorry."

Matilda interrupted them with a gentle touch to Abraham's elbow. He glanced at her and smiled. "I'll check with Howard about the levels."

"Thank you," she murmured. She focused in on Steve. "Ready?"

"As ever."

"You're lying."

"Yeah, well, just trying to make you feel better." He shrugged uselessly, though he was grinning a bit.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," she mumbled. Then she stepped back. "Okay, then. Ready, Abraham."

"Thank you," the man said, taking the microphone being held out to him. "Do you hear me? Is this on?" He cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace."

"Howie," Matilda said quietly, stepping up next to him. "Levels?"

"At one hundred percent. Don't worry, good old Steve's gonna be a giant in about seven minutes." He flipped a switch and pulled on a lever.

"Yeah, because that's comforting." She glanced back to find the pod closing and moving upright.

Abraham stepped up to the pod and knocked on the glass. "Steven? Can you hear me?"

His voice was muffled but Matilda could still hear him when her brother responded, "It's probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?"

She couldn't help but laugh, because if there was anything she had expected him to say at a time like this, it was something like that. She moved to her own station and pulled down her goggles. "Numbers steady. Go ahead, Howard."

Howard pulled down his goggle and put his hands over the controls. He began twisting a dial and the next three seconds felt like forever. Her anxiety shot upwards and she forgot what it was like to breathe until Howard broke the spell with a statement of, "That's ten percent."

"Steady," Matilda assured him. The light was dim through the glass on the pod and she listened to the constant hum of power.

"Twenty percent." Then there was only a fifteen second gap. "Thirty."

"Steady," she said again, and she flinched at the crack in her voice. "Numbers are steady," she said, trying to recover.

"Forty percent."

"Vitals?" Matilda called out.

"Vital signs are normal," was the response she got.

"Fifty," Howard said, voice raising a little. "Sixty per—"

And then Steve was screaming. Matilda jerked her head up so fast that her neck stung. The sound echoed in her chest and she was moving before she realized it. "Shut it down!" she yelled. "Shut it down!"

Erskine threw a hand towards her to stop her in her tracks. He pounded on the glass. "Steven!"

"Shut it down!" Matilda said again. She rounded on Howard. "Stop it!"

"Steven!" Abraham yelled.

"He's not answering! Shut it down!"

"No!" Steve's voice was raw and drowned in the light burning through the pod. "No! I can do this!"

Abraham stopped, hand on the glass. He glanced towards Matilda. Her chest was heaving and her eyes wide. It took her a moment to realize that Abraham was waiting for her. Waiting for her call. She took a shaky breath and turned to Howard. "Take it to seventy," she rasped.

Howard nodded and she couldn't watch as he turned the dial again. Matilda returned to her station, eyes burning as she stared at the numbers. "Seventy!" Howard announced.

"Numbers steady."

"Eighty!"

There was another cry of pain from the pod, but it cut off quickly. The pain shooting through Matilda's chest did not.

"Ninety!"

The numbers jumped. "Hold!" she yelled. "Pressure stabilizing! Vitals?"

"Normal!"

Matilda waited for the pressure to drop. "Numbers steady!" She glanced to the side at Howard. He nodded to her and bent over the controls again. God, could he move any slower? She wanted to yell at him. Scream at him. But she bit down on her tongue instead.

"One hundred percent!"

The moment he said that, the panel sparked. Matilda's heart jumped and she jerked her gaze towards the pod. There wasn't any screaming. That had to be a good sign, right? She reached out and pulled the lever. The pod hissed and then began to open and Matilda ripped off her goggles.

A few feet away, Howard muttered, "Holy shit."

Matilda caught her breath, because for a long moment it didn't quite register that this was her brother. And then she surged forward, catching his arm as Steve stumbled down from the pod. She fell her jaw loosen as, for the first time in her life, she actually had to look up to see him. Steve gasped. "I did it," he breathed.

Erskine was grinning from his other side. "Yes. Yes, I think we did."

"We did," Matilda murmured.

Peggy stepped up to them, holding out a shirt. "How do you feel?"

He stared around the room and then looked down at them. "Um . . . . Taller."

"You look taller."

Matilda released him and stepped back so that he could put on the shirt. She glanced to the side as Chester approached, extending his hand. "Congratulations, Doctor," he said.

Erskine smiled and shook the man's hand. "Thank you, sir."

The entire room shook and fire and glass rained down on them as the box above shattered outward. Matilda threw up an arm to protect Steve instinctively, only to have her hand hit him in the shoulder when she was reminded how much taller he was now. She looked up at the box only to be interrupted by a gunshot.

Erskine dropped.

"No!" Matilda yelled, pulling out her gun. She took aim at the man as he started to run and got a shot off just before Peggy started after the man. Something started to burn in her chest and she surged forward, only to be quickly passed by Steve. Someone threw out an arm to block her and she looked up, scowling. "But—"

"Help the doctor," Chester ordered. "You have medical experience."

She wanted to protest, but a glance back at Erskine's crumpled body made her listen. "Yes, sir." She dropped to her knees, setting her gun aside. "Abraham? Look at me. Good, keep your eyes open."

He struggled, eyes hazy behind his cracked glasses. "M . . . atilda. Your . . . your brother."

She pressed her hands over the wound, slipping in the blood. "Save your energy, Abraham. Just focus on breathing."

"Take care of him," Erskine rasped.

She caught her breath and nodded. "Yes, sir. Of course. But I need you to focus for me. I need you to— Abraham?" She pressed her blood stained fingers against his neck. No pulse. "No, no, no. Abraham!"

A hand touched her shoulder. "Tills, let the nurses— Tills, c'mon."

She shrugged him off. "No, no, no."

"Matilda!" Howard's hands closed around her shoulders and he hauled back. It was easy to resist him, far too easy, but she found she didn't have the heart to. She fell backwards, hands shaking. "This isn't right," she muttered. "This isn't right." She collapsed into him and heard him grunt as he bore her full weight from his spot on the floor behind her.

"I know," he murmured. "But don't lose it," he said, voice so low that only she could possibly hear it with her new senses. "They could suspect something."

"But I can't—"

"You have to. Pull yourself together."

* * *

"That's the third wrench you've bent," Howard hissed, snatching it out of her hands. "Be more careful."

"If Chester keeps talking to Steve like that, I'm gonna bash his head in," she muttered.

"Violent. More so than usual."

"You're an experiment. You're going to Alamogordo."

"That's it," Matilda growled slamming down the crooked wrench. She whipped around. "You're not sending him anywhere near that hell hole," she snapped, stalking towards them.

Chester held out a hand. "Yes, I'm well aware of your strong opinions, Rogers. But I have rank here and—"

"You stick my brother and a lab and I'll pull all of SI's dealings with the military, no matter what Howard says! I swear that—"

"Matilda!" Howard grabbed her arm. He threw a grin at Chester. "Sorry, she's just stressed." He yanked on her arm. "C'mon," he muttered.

Matilda easily held against him, staring Chester down. Chester turned away. "Fine."

She finally let Howard pull her from the room. His grip was tighter than really needed and he steered her into an empty room. Howard slammed the door then turned on her. "You're losing it."

"I—" She swallowed. "I know," Matilda rasped. "I just got so _angry."_

"You've always been angry. But this . . . ."

"It's the serum," she said, whimpering voice breaking. "Isn't it? Abraham talked plenty on it magnifying aspects of personality. That's what happened to Schmidt."

"You aren't—" Howard sighed. "You aren't Schmidt."

She glowered. "I know. That's not what I'm saying, idiot."

"There it is again."

Matilda flinched. "I'm . . . sorry. You'll need to make sure to check me on that."

"I will."

Someone knocked on the door. Bold, confident. She recognized it and raised her voice. "Yes, Stevie?"

The door opened. "Juno?"

Howard cleared his throat and brushed off his shirt. "I'll get going." As he passed Steve, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Lookin' good, Steven." Then he shut the door behind him.

Matilda smiled faintly. "Sorry for my . . . outburst, Stevie. There's just . . . a lot and I—"

"I know." He stood at attention, glancing nervously aside. "I'm working with Senator Brandt. They won't send me overseas, so I'll be working here instead."

"Doing . . . ?"

"Um . . . . Promoting the war. Bonds, enlistment, and—"

"They're gonna throw you on a stage?" Matilda scoffed a little. "I'm sorry, Stevie, but do I need to remind you of how bad of an actor you are? You—"

"This is my only option, Juno. Unless I just want to . . . go sit in the apartment while you and Buck fly all over the world without me."

"I—" Matilda sighed. She stepped forward and reached up, pressing a hand against his cheek. "Okay," she mumbled. "Why don't we go pack up the apartment, okay? We'll stay at Howie's tonight. And then . . . ." She ran her fingers through his hair. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

He laughed. "That's not how it goes, Juno."

"I know," she said, smiling. "I know."


	17. Chapter 16 - Behavior Report

Chapter Sixteen - Behavior Report

"Steve's gone?"

Matilda looked up from the letter, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. "What? Oh, yes. He left a while earlier."

Howard nodded, yawning and slumping into the chair closest to her. He reached out and snatched up her coffee. He gulped at it and then immediately spat it back out. "This is cold!" He slammed the cup back down.

"Hmm?" she murmured, flicking her gaze down across the rest of the letter and focusing on unwinding the tightness in her chest. "Yeah, I guess it would be. I forgot I had it there."

"Got distracted, huh?" Howard leaned forward and reached for one of the many letters scattered across the table. "There's a lot of these. What—"

Matilda snapped a hand out and grabbed his wrist. "Don't," she said sternly. Then she remembered herself and cleared her throat, pulling back. "I mean . . . . Sorry. They're . . . from Bucky."

Howard started at her. Then he whistled. "All of these? Damn, that boy must have been writing you every single day."

Matilda gently folded back up the letter she was holding and then began gathering them up in a neat stack. "He was. Started just a few minutes after I saw him off, actually. It's . . . it's nice," she murmured. She took the cord sitting on the table and tied the letters back together.

Howard scoffed. "You're pretty far gone, Tills."

"Don't say that like it's a bad thing," she groused, rubbing her forehead with a frown.

"I'm not." He sat down across from her and leaned forward. "What's wrong? Headache?"

"Um, yeah. Kinda. I'm not really sure. It's not really pain just . . . a phantom?"

"Stress, maybe."

"Yeah. Maybe." She rubbed her shoulder out of habit more than anything. It didn't hurt anymore.

"Are you going to be good to travel in the morning?"

"Of course," she muttered. "I'm not a child, Howie. I'd let you know if I'm compromised. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, you're shakin' like a leaf."

"Goddammit, I'm _fine,"_ she snapped, slamming the letter in her hands down on the table. "Leave me alone!"

Howard frowned at her. "Check."

"What?" She pulled back. "What are you—"

"You told me to check you on your anger. So, check." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at her.

Matilda worked her jaw for a moment. Then she forced herself to relax into her seat. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't— It's hard."

"Yeah, I get it." He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "You've gotta be starving. I'll ask JARVIS to work up some brunch for you, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. "Thanks."

He leaned over and pecked a kiss to her forehead. "Of course, Tills."

* * *

"You know, I've been to Africa before, but this will be your first time, won't it?"

"Hmm?" Matilda looked up from the blueprints she was studying. "What? Yeah, I guess. Howard, if we thin the casing or mix in some copper to dilute, that will lessen the expense."

"You haven't heard a single thing I've said in the last hour, have you?"

She sighed and capped her pen. "I'm sorry. I know that— I'm sorry. I just— There's a lot we have to do, remember? And I haven't even touched the transmitter that Eisenhower requested."

"You know what's wrong with you? You forget to breathe. Here." He held out the half empty bottle of wine he'd been nursing. "Get drunk with me. We won't be there for a good while longer, and then we don't even have a meeting for an entire day from now."

She eyed the bottle. "I dunno if that will do the trick."

He grinned and set it down before turning to the cooler. "Good thing I have other options too. How do you feel about vodka?"

She sighed and gave in. Three hours later, Howard was absolutely plastered and writing on the wall of the cabin in an attempt to design a toaster that also fried donuts. Matilda was nursing her seventh bottle of vodka and desperately trying to feel any sort of effect at all.

"This isn't working."

Howard let out an unintelligible sound and then stumbled to the side for a bowl just before he threw up. Matilda winced and set down her drink. "You're a mess, Howie. You know that, right?"

He muttered something that she interpreted as "you love me," but could have just as easily been him asking for pancakes. She rolled her eyes and dragged her papers back over. "I just want to go home," she whispered. "And I want everyone home. Stevie and Bucky and I just want us all together and happy. I don't, I don't . . . I don't want to have to wonder if they're alive every damn day."

Howard snored loudly, splayed out next to the bowl that he was now hugging like his life depended on it. Matilda closed her eyes and dragged a hand down her face. "Well . . . at least I've got you."

* * *

Steve squinted suspiciously at the foreign cookies for a long moment before shrugging and sticking the provided candle in one and lighting it. He looked down at the letter and skimmed through it for the ninth time, humming happy birthday to himself as he did so. The letter was sparse on details about what Matilda was doing and he only had a vague idea of her location because she mentioned that the cookies were a popular North African dessert.

Part of him couldn't help but be jealous. She was out truly helping with the war effort. Her inventions were saving soldiers. And he was stuck here, acting on a stage.

Steve blew out the candle. "Happy birthday, Juno," he murmured. "Miss you."

* * *

Everything in his body was screaming for rest and it was a fight to keep his eyes open. He could already hear Thompson three bunks down snoring loudly and the familiar sound was now less annoying and more of a reminder that he needed sleep.

But instead of giving in, he hunched as close to the dimming lantern as he could and opened the envelope. On top sat the picture he'd requested, just Matilda. It was cut small and compact and he tucked it into his jacket next to the drawing from Steve so that it, like the sketch, could sit right over his heart. Then he carefully unfolded the letter.

 _Dear Bucky,_

* * *

"General, let me make something very clear. The next soldier of yours that lays his hands on me without permission might not even _have_ hands by the time I'm done with him," Matilda said, slamming her folders down on the table. "Is that clear?"

The general stared at her. And then he chuckled. "Damn. You're a spitfire. Your message is received and understood."

"Good." She straightened and smoothed out her dress. "Also, Coombs has a broken nose now."

Howard snickered. "Of course he does. Now that you're finally here, we can get started." He lifted the large briefcase he was carrying up onto the table. "We have some upgraded guns ready here, but we don't have enough for all your men."

"I saw your number and that should be enough for the first line. As long as they can hold their ground, that will help us move the 107th farther inland and that's what we really need."

Howard paused and glanced at Matilda. She blinked. "I . . . didn't realize that the division being moved inland was the 107th."

The general frowned. "Is that a problem?"

She shook her head. "No. It's not a problem at all."


	18. Chapter 17 - Sweet Sue From Kalamazoo

Chapter Seventeen - Sweet Sue From Kalamazoo

"I'm sorry, Rogers, am I boring you?"

She tore her gaze away from her watch to stare at the general. "Ah, no, sir. Sorry, sir. Just a little distracted."

"I can see that," he said dryly. "Do I have your attention now?"

She could see Howard smirking out of the corner of her eye and she shoved down the heat rising to her cheeks. "Yes, sir." She refocused on the blueprints the general has been asking about.

The meeting couldn't pass quickly enough, but even when it was over her watch hadn't quite reached the time she wanted it at just yet. Howard grinned at her. "A little desperate to see your loverboy, Tills?"

"Shut up," she muttered, moving to collect their papers. She carefully stacked the pages, lining up the edging. "I just . . . . Okay, desperate, nervous, whatever you want to call it, Howie."

"It's been a while, huh? Having second thoughts?"

Matilda reared back like he'd hit her. "What? No! Never. I— _Never!"_

He leaned heavily against the table, laughing hysterically. "Goddamn, Tills! You are _gone_ on him."

She pulled back a bit, flushing deeply. "I . . . ." She lifted her chin. "Yes, I am. What's it to you?"

He shrugged, his grin going wider. "Nothing, I guess. It's cute. Your torch is almost as bright as his." Howard reached out and tugged the papers from her hands. "I'll clean up. Go ahead and wait for 'em to get here. Any minute now, right?"

Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks, Howie." She pecked a kiss against his cheek. "I love you."

"And don't you forget it."

* * *

Bucky's legs wanted nothing more than to just give out completely, but he forced himself to keep moving and he dropped the last package of medical supplies with an exhausted sigh. He took a deep breath and leaned against the stack of supplies, stealing a moment of rest.

"—looking for Sergeant Barnes. Have you seen him?"

He groaned and straightened. Bucky rubbed his eyes and then looked for the source of the distant question. All the air left him like he'd been hit and through his tired haze, he was barely able to focus in on the person rushing towards him. "Tilly?" he mumbled.

And then all the air was forced out of him again when she—was it really her? was she really here?—slammed into him. Arms slipped around him tightly. "Hello, Sarge," a voice choked out. "I missed you."

He breathed a sigh of relief and tucked his head down against hers. His arms came up around her. He knew that voice, he knew that face. "Tilly," he breathed. "You're here." But . . . . Bucky paused because she fit in his arms just fine—like she belonged there, which of course she did—but something was . . . different. Changed. He pulled back a bit and—

"Tilly?"

She lifted her head from her shoulder to meet his gaze and—

That was new.

Bucky huffed out a breath and leaned his forehead against hers, letting his eyes slide closed. "Dear god, I'm finally hallucinating, aren't I?"

Matilda chuckles and her breath puffed against his lips as she whispered, "Now, why would you think that, Sarge?"

He pulled back again and dragged his hands from her waist to her shoulders. Bucky hesitated. Then he rose on his toes to try to regain some of the height he remembered having over her. "This . . . isn't right," he mumbled. "What happened to you? Or . . . . " He rubbed his forehead. "Jesus, I'm probably just tired. You _are_ here, right?"

Matilda nodded, but now her face was pale and her expression was drawn. Despite her inarguably larger size—he could almost look her in the eye now without looking down—she was smaller, shrinking in on herself. She reached up and detached his hands with unexpected, unfamiliar firmness. "I have to go," she mumbled. "Work. Howie and I need to go over our notes from our meeting with the general."

"Whoa, Tilly, wait." He reached out and caught her hand. It was . . . a little off, his hand slotting against hers a little differently than he was used to. "What's wrong?" He brought his other hand up to support her chin. When her gaze just dropped and she didn't answer, Bucky leaned in to kiss her.

Matilda stumbled back, ripping away from him. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." Then, before Bucky could even regain his sense of balance, she was gone.

Bucky stumbled a step, blinking. "What?" he rasped. Worry churned in his gut. He moved to follow her when someone barked out his name with more orders. He winced and reluctantly turned away.

But that night, after he finally finished with all of his responsibilities and sped through eating his dinner, Bucky went searching. He found the tent, fabric emblazoned with _Stark Industries,_ and carefully opened the flap. "Hello?" he asked ducking inside.

Howard looked up from his papers and blinked. "Huh? Oh! Barnes!" He grinned, straightening. "Never thought I'd say it, but Tills is right when she says a uniform looks good on you."

Bucky gave a nervous grin in return. "Speaking of Tilly, you wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?"

"Oh, yeah!" Howard set down his pen and moved back, opening a flap to another section of the tent. "Tills, Barnes is—" He stopped short. "Well, she _was_ here." He turned and squinted at Bucky. "Did you guys not set up a place to meet or something? I kinda expected you to."

Bucky shifted. "She ran off and I haven't been able to find her since. Um . . . what happened to her?"

Howard paused. "Happened to her?"

Bucky put his hand at his shoulder, where Matilda used to stand. And then he dragged his hand higher. Realization dawned on Howard's face. "Ah. I thought you'd told you in one of those letters or something. Uh . . . I think that's for her to tell you, not me." Howard stepped forward and clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "She's around here somewhere, I would guess. Go get 'er, tiger."

* * *

Bucky did not, in fact, go get her. He spent three days using every bit of free time he could scrounge up to try to find and talk to Matilda, but it was all to no avail. Finally, Howard caught him briefly during lunch at the canteen and said that he'd discovered that Matilda had been sneaking off to do her work just outside the base at the beach. Bucky shoved the last of his food at Howard and rushed out in the direction he'd been pointed. It was a quarter-mile out from the base and his stomach twisted at the thought of her being even just a step away from the protection the encampment of soldiers provided.

Just like Howard had said, he found Matilda on the beach. She was just out of reach of the waves lapping up on the sand, hunched over the papers in her lap with one hand twirling her pen and the other hand buried in her hair in frustration. He took a long breath to calm himself, his heart pounding from the run. His hand snuck to his pocket so he could run his thumb across his pocket watch in an attempt to refocus. Bucky stepped forward.

He could tell the moment Matilda noticed his presence; she tense and she lowered both her pen and her head. He sat down, digging a hand into the wet sand to brace himself. Then he didn't say anything.

"What do you want?" Matilda asked quietly, voice raw.

He withdrew his pocket watch and held it out to her. Matilda dropped her pen and reached for it, her fingers flinching against his as she took the watch. "This is one of my favorite things," he murmured. "Not because of what it is but because of what it reminds me of. That week—" He paused, trying to think of the best way to go about saying what he wanted to say.

Matilda shoved the pocket watch back at him. "That week, your mother died. What's good about remembering that?"

"It's not the only thing that happened then," he said, gently catching her hands so she couldn't pull back. He kept the pocket watch pressed against her palm. "You know, the day I got this was the day I realized I loved you."

He could hear the way her breath caught. Her head was tilted down, so he still hadn't been able to get a good look at her. So instead, he settled for pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I've loved you for a long time, Rogers," he whispered. "Whatever's going on, whatever it is that has you . . . scared?" And that was a strange concept because he'd never seen her truly scared of anything before. Angry, sad, resigned. Never scared. "It's not gonna change the fact that I love you. I'm sorry if I haven't done a good enough job of making sure you know that. Of making sure you know I love you."

Matilda made an odd sound that could have easily been her stifling a sob. She twisted her hands in his so that she could lace her fingers with his. "I know that. You've done just fine with making sure I know that." She took a shaky breath and shifted, leaning into him with her head still down. "I did . . . something mildly illegal. Okay, very illegal. To, you know, just to protect Steve. But it changed me and I'll taller and now I'd so goddamn angry all the time, even more than I ever was before, and—"

"Okay." He squeezed her hands. "Okay. So . . . you did something illegal," he said slowly, softly. "To protect Steve."

"Yes. To, to protect Steve. It's one of the things Howard and I have been working on with the military. A serum, enhancement serum. Erskine, the doctor who created it, called it a super soldier serum. It enhances a person, making them bigger and stronger. But . . . not just physically, you know. It enhances what you are, and apparently, I'm just . . . angry."

"Hey, no. You're way more than just angry. You know that, right." He tugged on hand away and slipped the watch back in his pocket. Then he lifted his hand to touch her chin. She finally looked up and he smiled, studying the tears gathering in her eyes. "Though we'll have to dance again. You know, just for practice. In case your new height makes it hard for you."

"Hey." She shoved him and he grunted a bit at the force. "I'm _always_ a good dancer. This isn't gonna change that."

"Of course not," he assured her, grinning. "So, if you're tall now, is Steve—"

"Huge. And healthy. And god, you should see him. There's not a bully in the world that would think it's a good idea to mess with him now."

Bucky hummed and nodded as he watched her. "Matilda," he murmured.

The use of her name made her pause and meet his gaze. "What?"

"Can I kiss you now?" he whispered.

She smiled and reached up, sliding her fingers across his jaw. "Of course."


End file.
